


The Falling Snows (or Some Such)

by Wintermoth



Series: Tales From Camp Dragonhead [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, As usual there are shenanigans, Carbuncles, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Good thing Haurchefant is around to boost morale and talk sense into people, Haurchefant wants to fight all the Crystal Braves single-handed, Healthy coping methods? What are those??? WoL's about to find out., Love Confessions, Requited Love, Romantic Tension, WoL is Not Dealing Well, Yaelle will help him, also ft: House Fortemps' knights on the porch holding shot guns, because the Crystal Braves were assholes and neither kind nor gentle with their prisoners, meaningful conversations between friends who would like to be more, there's also dealing with the aftermath of traumatic experiences and complete and utter betrayal!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 02:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15675957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintermoth/pseuds/Wintermoth
Summary: Because let's face it, there were atleasta few weeks between the disastrous banquet and crossing the Steps of Faith, and it wasn't all fun and games and life as usual.





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so before we begin, allow me to address the elephants in the room--which you have not seen yet but will become evident quite quickly: I gave the WoL a name. As I've said before--and many of you have likely inferred--I have endeavored to keep this WoL in the space between completely every-man and a specific OC. She's vague enough to be open to interpretation but defined enough to be herself, which was my original goal. However, given where I am planning to take this series, that isn't going to work in the long run. She needs a name. 
> 
> I had a few idea for names, all of which came from earlier FF games (like Bobby Corwen) and after some input from a few friends, I decided to go with Rain. You will learn more about her name as time goes on but from here on out, I will primarily be referring to her as Rain. As will Haurchefant. 
> 
> Also, ahah so...according to the MSQ, somehow Tataru and Yugiri made it from Mor Dhona to Vesper Bay to fucking CAMP DRAGONHEAD in the time it took for the Sultana to get killed, WoL to escape, and the airship to reach Coerthas. Uh uh. No.

Autumn huffed, pulling his cloak tighter around himself, and folded his arms against his chest for warmth. Night watch didn’t used to be so miserable during the tenth moon, back when Coerthas had a reasonable climate and winter was still a while off. But then Dalamund had to go drop and drop from the sky, release Nidhogg’s broodmate, who apparently had a grudge against the realm itself, and ruin the climate. He’d heard that Thanalan had actually gotten hotter as a result of that, the lucky bastards.

At least the skies were clear tonight? Wait, no. Bad storms meant those on watch got to spend it in the towers, warmed by braziers all night, and there were stools to sit on when one’s legs needed a rest. Ah, what he wouldn’t give…

They ought to do that every night. Shut the gates and keep watch in the towers only. No one in their right mind was traveling at this hour and a gate was a hell of a better deterrent to heretics than two half frozen blokes and their swords.

Not that Autumn was expecting any heretics tonight, or any other night. Ever since the traitors had been expunged from their ranks and their slow purge of the Steel Vigil commenced, heretics and dragons alike no longer seemed to care about this side of the Nail. All their efforts were focused on the western side and the city proper. Who in their right mind would bother with Dragonhead when Whitebrim was much more direct—and easier to cross?

No one. The answer was no one.

He sighed again.

“Would you stop?” the other fellow on watch grumbled. Piterre, his name was, one of several men who had once served at House Fortemps’ outpost in the Southern Lowlands and lived to tell the tale of Bahamut’s destruction. He wasn’t very pleasant company, never mind good for conversation. Just another reason tonight was proving to be unbearable.

He almost wished a goobbue or croc would come charging up, just to make things interesting.

Autumn froze, squinting at the sky. After a few seconds he realized what had caught his eye: a shape in the sky, growing steadily larger as he watched. Generations worth of fear of the skies sent adrenaline coursing through his system the moment he realized it was far too large to be a bird. His hands fumbled for the horn under his cloak but his fingers were clumsy in his haste and the horn and his cloak weren’t _cooperating_ —

“Wait!” Piterre hisses, holding his arm out to caution him. “Tis but an airship.”

“An airship?!” Autumn sputtered. No Ishgardian would dare risk flying at night, or that close to the Observatorium because that was how one provoked the astrologans into a frenzy, and _especially_ now that the horde was active again. It was the wrong shape for an Ixali ship and the Garleans had no interests here. Which only left…

“Fuckin’ Eorzeans,” he grumbled and let the horn fall back against his armor.

The entirety of the Highlands was about to be sent into a panic because some dumb southerner didn’t know basic courtesy. Great. Typical.

They watched the airship as it flew steadily closer. Judging from its course, it intended to fly around the far side of the Nail, which put the Observatorium and Camp Dragonhead directly in its path. Ooh, the astrologans were going to have a fit over this, and, ah, he wished he could be there to see them panic over an unidentified mass in the sky. To his surprise, the ship veered to give the Observatorium some berth, but not enough, he knew, to go unnoticed. …He liked to think that sound in the distance was pretentious stargazers screaming. But then, to his surprise, the ship began to descend. Did…did it mean to land in Camp Dragonhead?!

So much for a quiet night.

The ship did land in Dragonhead, though not the camp itself. Rather it touched down perhaps a malm away, along the main road in the valley. It had scarcely landed before it was off again, far too quickly for more than a handful of individuals to disembark, disappearing into the southern skies as swiftly as it had arrived. It was as if the pilot had hoped to be stealthy but forgot that a bird couldn’t fly around without at least six people taking note and half of them experiencing a minor panic from it. Fuckin’ Eorzeans.

“This ought to be good,” Piterre remarked and Autumn hummed in agreement.

The airship’s passengers came into view about five minutes later, walking at a slow but steady pace. Though perhaps walking was a bit of an overstatement as one would stumble or stagger every few feet. There were only two of them, one so small that Autumn knew it had to be a child, and they seemed to be carrying something. As they drew closer, he realized they were not carrying something, but were rather walking in close quarters with…was that a blanket?

The smaller one stumbled again, falling this time, and the blanket fell away from the other, revealing a slender body and, oh, Halone, it was a woman and she had no coat! No boots, even! She helped her smaller companion (a girl, too, it seemed from the length of the hair) to her feet and they wrapped the blanket around themselves once more.

Without looking to Piterre for approval, Autumn lifted the small horn to his lips and blew two sharp blasts. Both a signal to those on watch to be alert and an order to rouse the commander from his chambers, but not to ready the garrison for battle. Releasing the horn, Autumn abandoned his post at the gate and sprinted towards them. They saw him coming and halted their pace, the older shifting so she was standing behind the younger and pulled the blanket tighter around themselves. As he neared, he began to make out even more details about them, their races, features, and…oh, Fury take him…

Lord Haurchefant was going to have a fit.

* * *

 

Lord Haurchefant was still awake when he heard the sentry’s horn go off. Despite the hour, the long day he’d had, and the looming ‘morrow which would undoubtedly be just as long, sleep eluded him. Though t’was not a chill which kept him awake, nor bad memories or fretting about the future, all of which had been known to do so in the past. Rather it was an inescapable sense of foreboding. _Somewhere_ , something was wrong. He just knew it.

Of course, _somewhere_ was a rather large area and, really, what good was a prophetic sense of dread if it wouldn’t at least give him a geographical region so he could prioritize who and what to worry about?

Then the horn went off and, oh, it would seem that _somewhere_ was within the general vicinity. Splendid!

Haurchefant ignored his grieves and pulled on his casual boots instead, a pair of breaches, a button up, and his coat. He finished dressing in record time and was fastening his sword to his belt when one of the men on duty came to ensure he had heard the horn. The man knew nothing except that one of the sentries on the south wall had sounded the call and that two unknown persons were approaching from the south. Haurchefant frowned. His men knew better than to sound the alarum on a whim. Something about these travelers had spooked him.

Haurchefant reached the courtyard mere moments before they passed through the south gate, a pair of travelers hunched over from the cold and their exhaustion. The taller wore a standard issue military cloak, so large on them that it trailed along the ground, while the shorter was bundled in what looked suspiciously like a tarp. The former’s face was obscured by their hood but Haurchefant spotted a pair of feet in dainty sandals beneath the folds of the cloak, the likes of which more suited for Thanalan or the beaches of La Noscea than the rugged terrain of Coerthas. The latter, on the other hand, wore no hood and Haurchefant would recognize that hair anywhere.

“Master Alphinaud!” Haurchefant called and the young elezen looked around at the sound of his name. His entire demeanor shifted the moment he laid eyes on him, his shoulders sagging and relief washing across his face. Well, that was certainly uncharacteristic of him. Something _must_ be seriously wrong.

Alphinaud’s companion lowered her hood and, oh, Halone, it was the Warrior of Light.

“Rain,” Haurchefant breathed. His feet were moving before he gave them permission to do so, striding across the courtyard and closing the distance between them in a matter of moments. She was pale, they both were, and shivering from the cold and still she managed to smile at him, though it did not reach her eyes.

“What happened?” Haurchefant demanded, shedding his coat. Alphinaud, who realized what was happening, dropped the tarp to the ground, and Haurchefant threw his coat around the younger elezen’s shoulders.

While he fastened the topmost buttons, Alphinaud replied through chattering teeth, “W-we were at-tacked—banquet in Ul’D-dah—the crystal br-braves and—the _sultana_ —”

“Alright, alright,” Haurchefant placated. “You can tell me the rest indoors. Let’s go.” He straightened up and turned to the cluster of knights and soldiers who had been drawn over by the arrival. “Find them some warm clothes, anything you think will fit. Rouse Medguistl, tell her to prepare tea and something warm, and warn the chirurgeon on duty that they have patients incoming.”  

The crowd dispersed, some heading for the barracks and others in the direction of the infirmary and kitchens. Haurchefant ushered the two Scions across the courtyard, one arm against each of their backs for support and protection. They were weary from their journey and moved slower than he would have liked but all he could do was urge them on with the promise of a warm fire and beds ahead. There was no way they had walked here from Ul’Dah, but the nearest aetherytes to the south were still hours away on foot, a journey which would tax a man dressed and prepared for it, which they certainly were not.

The door to the building housing the infirmary flew open to reveal the hyurian chirurgeon, Leofric, with a thunderous expression. He beckoned them inside with urgency. Both Alphinaud and Rain looked dismayed at the sight of the staircase before them, so Haurchefant carried them upstairs one at a time. As he was carrying Rain, he quietly asked if she was alright, but her only response was to rest her head against his shoulder. Leofric had him set them on adjacent beds in the ward, which was surprisingly void of patients.

The chirurgeon tried to start with Alphinaud first, given that he was the younger and abjectly weaker of the two, but the lad refused obstinately and insisted Rain be seen to first for her injuries. With his patient refusing treatment, Leofric could do little but turn to his other patient and order her to remove her cloak. Beneath it she wore an outfit which ordinarily would have had Haurchefant drooling. Flowing ebony fabric, golden adornments, and a generous amount of skin showing, but then he caught sight of the bruises mottling the skin of her arms, her shoulder, and, Halone forbid, her _neck._

Fury rose in him, boiling his blood, and it was all he could do to keep himself in place by the door. “Who did this?” he demanded.

“She was apprehended by the Crystal Braves right round the same time as I was, only they were not content merely binding her hands as they did mine.” Alphinaud explained. “I know not exactly what happened, but she hasn’t been able to talk since we met up and her penmanship is not…very good. She wasn’t able to tell me much through writing.”

Leofric nodded once. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I need to know exactly what they did to you. Can you show me?”

Rain punched her palm a few times then placed her hand on the back of her neck, the tips of her fingers pressing into her skin, and mimed pulling and pushing herself around. Leofric’s eyes widened but otherwise his expression remained neutral. Haurchefant, on the other hand, was beside himself. They’d hauled her about by the neck like some common dog!

“Y’Shtola healed her enough so that she could run,” Alphinaud explained quietly. “And I did a little as well when we found each other, but I was afraid to try and heal her completely.”

“Wise decision, lad.” The chirurgeon felt along her neck and throat gingerly with his fingertips. After a few moments of this, his hands began to glow with curative magic. Rain’s eyes slipped shut. The spell lasted for only a few moments but when Leofric withdrew his hands, Haurchefant could see that the bruising had already begun to fade.

“Don’t try to talk yet,” he urged. “Give your muscles a chance to recover. You should be fine enough in the morning.”  
  
Rain nodded.

Compared to Rain’s abused throat, the rest of her wounds as well as Alphinaud’s from their captivity were relatively minor. Both of their wrists bore signs of rope burn, though faded from Alphinaud’s attempts to remedy them. Leofric asked questions like how long they’d been exposed to the elements and was clearly troubled by the hours they spent aboard an exposed airship with nothing more than a tarp and a meager supply of fire shards to warm themselves. He procured several different concoctions for them to drink as well as a poultice for Alphinaud’s wrists, which had fared worse than Rain’s.

Haurchefant lingered in the doorway to the infirmary all the while, unable to either help or leave. Several soldiers showed up carrying bits and pieces of clothing, along with one of the traveling merchants willing to part with pairs of gloves and socks for each of them. Once he had deemed them both fit enough, Leofric pulled screens around each bed for privacy and shooed everyone from the room so they could change.

Haurchefant paced outside the door to the ward, mind and stomach churning in equal measure. He still had _no_ idea what happened, only that the Crystal Braves were somehow responsible, and he was torn between doing the wise thing and hear the tale and wanting to storm Revenant’s Toll himself and lay into the lot of them.

“My lord,” Leofric murmured. Haurchefant glanced at him but did not halt in his pacing, until the healer stopped him with an arm in his path. “Mayhap you ought to see how Medguistl fares,” he suggested. “As you say, ‘food that physicks—’”

“—maketh flesh proof against the cold,” Haurchefant finished. “Yes, alright. I shall. I just…” He glanced in the direction of the infirmary.

“Food will do her better now than your concerns.”

“Of course.”

* * *

 

Rain and Alphinaud scarfed down the soup like they hadn’t eaten in days. Their borrowed clothes were ill-fitting and so unlike their usual attire that they looked almost nothing like themselves. Each had taken their hair down as well but without proper brushes or combs, little could be done for the state they were in. It made for a rather pitiful sight overall.

When Leofric suggested they rest and put the inevitable conversation off until morning, Haurchefant was inclined to agree. But Alphinaud fervently refused, insisting it had to happen now, ought to have happened already, but before he could go on any further, Rain rasped out four words that effectively ended any protests that may have followed.

_“The sultana…was murdered.”  
_

Alphinaud’s voice died in his throat. Leofric’s teeth clicked shut.

“Nanamo is dead?” Haurchefant asked, stunned.

Rain nodded. She mimed taking a drink, then drew her finger in a line across her throat.

Haurchefant lowered his voice, “Poison?”

She nodded again and Haurchefant immediately strode to the door, looking out anxiously. The floor was empty, thankfully, but one could never be too careful.  

“It matters not who hears,” Alphinaud informed him. “For all shall in due course. Word has already spread throughout Ul’Dah, I daresay it shan’t be long until word reaches all corners of the realm.”

Haurchefant turned around, lips pursed in concern. Then he strode over to their beds. “Tell me everything.”

He sat on the edge of Rain’s bed and Alphinaud furrowed his brow. “I…fear I can only recount perhaps half the tale, though Rain will be able to tell us more when she regains her voice.”

Rain nodded in agreement.

“Not long after the banquet began, Nanamo invited Rain to her chambers for a conversation. It was during this conversation that the sultana partook of wine laced with poison.” He glanced at Rain. “A death which, I suspect, you would have shared if not for the pure fortune that you did not drink when she did.”

She clenched her jaw but otherwise did not react.

“Mere moments later, a member of the Ul’Dahn Syndicate by the name of Teledji Adeledji arrived with members with the Brass Blades and the Crystal Braves.”

“What fortunate timing,” Haurchefant muttered. “But are the Crystal Braves not yours, Master Alphinaud?”

Fury flashed across the boy’s face, followed by sadness, and finally regret. “I—I believed them to be mine until the moment I felt the blade against my neck.”

Mutiny, then.

“I was taken captive likely around the same time as she. From here my details are rather few. From what I understand, Teledji Adeleji, backed by the Blades and the Braves, publicly accused Rain and the rest of the Scions of regicide. General Raubahn went into a fury, during which he killed Teledji, and…lost his arm?” he finished uncertainty, glancing at Rain who nodded. “During the fighting, Rain was freed and she and the other Scions in attendance escaped the banquet…but only Rain made it out of the city. I was rescued by Raubahn’s son and together we found Rain. We escaped Thanalan with some help from allies and then were flown here to Coerthas in Cid’s airship. The rest you know.”

“Know you of the other Scions’ fates?” Haurchefant asked. Rain bowed her head and shook it back and forth once. He propped his elbows up on his legs, folding his hands, and rested his chin on top of them. This was troubling news indeed. While he could think of many potential motives behind a political assassination, for what reason would any sane man accuse the realm’s mightiest warrior and _only_ defenders of it? T’was folly at best, a prequel to mass murder at worst.

“No,” Alphinaud echoed, “nor of those of the remaining Scions. T’was the five Archons in attendance only, but given what has happened, it would be fruitless to hope that the others were spared…. We must assume that neither the Waking Sands nor the Rising Stones are safe for us now,” he added quietly.

“Nor anywhere within Eorzea, I should think, for such accusations would needs be honored by the other members of the alliance. It is therefore quite fortunate indeed that Ishgard and her lands remain independent.” Haurchefant smiled at them. “It warms my heart that you should turn to me before all others—and I shall endeavor to deserve your trust. Camp Dragonhead will be your refuge for as long as you need it, and its people your allies.”

Alphinaud’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you, lord Haurchefant. We are in your debt.”

“Nonsense! Was it not the Scions who labored tirelessly to aid us in our fight against Lady Iceheart and her followers? Was it not the pair of you who labored to rid us of the false inquisitor or Rain who rescued my friend Francel from certain death and rid us of the mighty Vishap?” Haurchefant shook his head. “We are in _your_ debt and it is a blessing to now repay you in kind.” He rose to his feet.

“Then…is it in your power to grant us asylum within Ishgard itself?” Alphinaud asked.

Haurchefant’s stomach, like his spirits, sank. Nothing could be further from the truth. Of a High House he may be but his status as a bastard all but negated most privileges his half-brothers had. Even then, such an action was only executable by the head of the house: his father. Under normal circumstances, his father could be persuaded, he was sure of it, but in the wake of the attacks on the city yesterday, the likelihood of such an outcome was low. The Count, like Ishgard itself, had far too many pressing concerns to concern themselves with outsiders. And the accusations of regicide would certainly not help matters. Haurchefant told them as much, each word tasting more bitter than the last in his mouth. For all the dangers his people faced, for all the risks associated inherent to becoming entangled with a High House, Ishgard would be a far safer place for Rain and Alphinaud than Dragonhead.

“I am afraid no progress will be made on the matter until the threat to our nation has diminished. But I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to ensure you are safe here.” Haurchefant smiled. “You may think of it as your new headquarters! The Falling Snows, or some such.”

That brought a bit of a smile to Rain’s face, though Alphinaud either did not catch or simply did not find amusement at his attempt at humor. Perhaps it was poorly timed, but her smile made it worth it. “All frivolity aside, any who come here in search of you will receive no aid from House Fortemps. For once, the Ishgardian reputation for inhospitality shall work in our favor. Agents of Ul’Dah will find there every inquiry dismissed and their every request for entry rebuffed until such time as their masters have acknowledged your innocence.”

Alphinaud exhaled softly. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. I shall leave you two to rest now.” Haurchefant glanced around and realized that at some point in the conversation, Leofric had slipped out of the room unnoticed. “We will speak further in the morning and perhaps see what can be done about your missing companions.”

Rain gingerly lowered herself onto her pillow, grimacing intermittently as she did. Even with the spells her pain had not yet faded. He noticed Alphinaud behaving similarly as he eased himself into a horizontal position. Though he himself had not been treated harshly by his captors, the hours on an airship and the lengthy trek through Coerthas had not been kind to his body. Nor the emotional toll of the day to his heart.

Haurchefant bid them goodnight and walked to the door. He paused in the doorway for a moment, then turned. “I am so sorry,” he murmured. Neither of them replied.

* * *

 

Haurchefant broke the news to the rest of the camp at breakfast the following morning. After summarizing what had occurred, he decreed that the surviving Scions would be sheltering with them for as long as necessary. He stressed the importance of secrecy and requested any clothing that could be spared be brought to the infirmary as the clothes they had arrived in were ill-suited for Coerthas. There was a surprising lack of dissent. He had expected the more xenophobic denizens to be displeased but it seemed that the Scions’ recent deeds were fresh in everyone’s minds.

After breakfast, Haurchefant stopped in the infirmary to check on them, only to be turned away by Leofric. They were still sleeping, of course, and he should have known better. He left with orders to inform him the moment they were awake.

His morning rounds passed in a blur, his mind far too distracted to do anything but go through the motions. When he had a moment, he sat down to pen a letter to Ser Aymeric, intending to inform him that Rain and Alphinaud had safely arrived…only for him to realize that he had no idea what Ser Aymeric knew. He had heard that the Lord Commander had returned to Ishgard sometime before midnight but nothing else. Had Aymeric born witness to events? Did he even know what had befallen the young sultana?

Haurchefant glanced at the chronometer on the wall and decided after a moment’s deliberation that it was worth inciting the ire of the chirurgeons. As much as they needed their rest, there was far too much uncertainty here for his liking, and Rain’s testimony was too essential to be delayed any further. He just hoped she was able to give it.

Stopping in the kitchens to prepare his favorite drink, he headed up to the infirmary with the kettle and three mugs on a tray for them to share. Hopefully the warm beverage would sooth her throat.

The chirurgeon on duty was Bette, a plain-faced Midlander with stormy gray eyes and a smile that belied the horrors she had seen in her forty-odd summers. Haurchefant would not go so far as to say she was a motherly figure, more perhaps an older sister tasked with caring for her younger siblings, doing a damn good job of it, but never pulling her verbal punches, so to speak. She had been a new healer when the last ceasefire in the Dragonsong War had ended and lived through the Calamity as well. In the wake of the destruction and the subsequent reallocation of their forces, she had ended up in Dragonhead. Officially, the count had chosen Dragonhead because it would be a less strenuous position than her last. Unofficially, well, far be it from Edmont to separate Bette and her wife.

“Good morning, dear Bette,” Haurchefant greeted, laying on as much charm as he could. “You are looking as radiant as ever.”

Bette, who was reading a book at the table beside the fire, rolled her eyes fondly. “What do you want, ‘Chefant?”

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, with an exaggerated gasp. “Cannot a man simply compliment a woman on her beauty?”

“Not a man known for buttering people up to get his way.”

“Madame Bette, you wound me. Truly.” He shook his head. “How are our guests this morning?”

“Still sleeping,” she replied, folding the corner of the page and closing her book. “We will send someone for you when they awake.”

“I…fear I must insist they be awoken now.”

“ _Must_ you?” she asked, sharp as a needle.

Haurchefant dipped his head and set his tray down. “Know you of what brought them to us?”

“…The ruler of Ul’Dah was killed and they are accused.” Bette pushed her chair back and stood. “I was under the impression you spoke with them at length last night, despite objections.”

“I did, however Master Alphinaud was only able to give me a limited account of events. As it stands, no one on the outside knows they are here, save for the one who brought them. I need to hear Rain’s side of the tale before I can safely proceed with any course of action. I must know who we can trust.”

Bette took a deep breath and sighed, bowing her head. “I will need several minutes.”

“Of course, madam.” Haurchefant sat down in the nearest chair and folded his hands on the table to wait. She disappeared into another room and he listened to her rummaging around in the cabinets for a time. She reappeared with a bowl of Fury-knows-what in her hands and then slipped inside the ward where Rain and Alphinaud still slept.

“Oh, you’re awake already.”

Or not.

Alphinaud murmured something Haurchefant could not make out but sounded exhausted. Poor kid. T’was hardly a wonder he could not sleep.

“Lord Haurchefant wishes to speak with you.”

Alphinaud murmured again.

“Well, then, let’s try now. Here now, dear, up you get. I’ll have a look at your throat and you can have some water.”

Silence followed, save for the rustling of sheets, Bette murmuring quietly, and the faint hum of magic. Relief washed through Haurchefant like a tangible weight when he heard Rain’s voice and he sat up straighter. Thank the twelve.  

“Lord Haurchefant?” Bette called about a minute or so later. He stood and walked to the door, peering past the privacy curtain. Rain sat upright in bed with Bette, holding a cup in her hands and staring at it like it had insulted her. Alphinaud lay in his bed, watching silently.

“Is aught amiss?” Haurchefant asked.

“Tell her where our water comes from,” the healer said.

He furrowed his brow, confused. “’Tis pumped in from an underground spring not far from here.”

“There, you see?” Bette smiled, patting Rain’s arm. “It is completely safe.”

Rain did not seem even remotely convinced and she continued to regard the cup in her hands like it might strike at any second—

Haurchefant frowned. Surely not…?  He walked over to the bed, kneeling beside it, and held out his hand.

“May I?” he asked and she hesitated before giving the cup to him. He gave the contents a cursory glance and, yes, it was definitely water then raised the cup to his lips—ignoring her strangled sound—and took a sip. “Water,” he announced, smacking his lips. “Simply water.” And handed it back to her.

Rain looked like she expected him to drop dead at any second and it was more than a little disconcerting. But when the moments passed and Haurchefant did not feel anything peculiar, he knew all was well and nodded once more. Only then did she tentatively lift the cup to her lips and drink.

He pursed his lips. That was what he’d been afraid of. “Poison is far from the Ishgardian style,” he reassured and she glanced at him. “And even if it were, the water supply here at camp is protected by the very earth. You have nothing to fear.”

Rain lowered the cup, frowning. “Bet Nanamo thought the same,” she rasped, “and now…” Her lip quivered and she mashed them together firmly, holding the empty cup out to Bette. The healer refilled it wordlessly and Rain took another drink.

Haurchefant went to collect the tray from where he’d left it and set it down on the desk between their beds. “Here, I daresay you will find this more appealing than mere water, and it should soothe your throat.” Pouring hot chocolate into the cups, he added, “’Tis an old recipe from my family and, lest you worry, I made it myself but a few minutes ago. Up you go, Master Alphinaud, wouldn’t want it to spill on the sheets.”

Alphinaud pushed himself upright and took one of the mugs from Haurchefant. He gave it a cursory sniff then lifted it to his lips.

“Careful now, it is quite hot.”

Alphinaud took a tentative sip and blinked in surprise, then another. Satisfied, Haurchefant handed the second mug to Rain, who set her cup of water aside in favor of the steaming beverage.

“Here you are, madam,” Haurchefant said, holding the third mug out to Bette.

“Oh,” she murmured in surprise and accepted. “Thank you.” She started to take a drink then paused, narrowing her eyes, and glared at him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

He scoffed and held his hand to his chest, then chucked, shaking his head, and sat on the edge of Alphinaud’s bed. “From you, madam, nothing at all. Are you up for conversation, Rain?”

“You need my story,” she answered.

Haurchefant dipped his head. “I do.”

Rain inhaled deeply, nodding as she exhaled, and took a small drink of hot cocoa. “After the sultana collapsed, I rushed to her aid but there was nothin’ I could do. They’d made me turn over almost everything I had before I went in, includin’ anything what could’ve helped. And she…she was…she was gone before anyone even responded to my screamin’.” She gritted her teeth. “That conniving little son of a bitch must’ve waited just long enough to make sure she was dead. …Not that it would have mattered, it took less than a minute.”

She sighed. “They took me prisoner and Tadledji Adeledji ordered the Braves search me and my things. They found a vial they claimed contained traces of the poison used to kill her—a vial I only had on me ‘cos I found it at a place I sent to by a Crystal Brave,” she added through clenched teeth.

Alphinaud lifted his head sharply. “Which?”

“Alianne.”

Alphinaud bowed his head, hands tightening so hard around his mug that they shook. “I see,” he bit out.

“B-but, she never showed. I only ever saw Laurentius. It c-could be they got her, too,” Rain reasoned. “She wasn’t the backstabbin’ sort.”

Haurchefant hummed tohimself. “So, you were lead to a location prior to your meeting with the sultana by an individual you trusted, who may or may not have been part of the plot to betray you all, wherein you acquired a vial you believe to have been planted there to condemn you. What possessed you to pick it up?”

Rain shrugged weakly. “Sometimes I get these gut feelings about objects, that they’re important. I’ve always just figured it was the Echo and trusted it. Never backfired like this before.” She took another drink of hot cocoa.

He sighed in exasperation. “Alright, continue.”

She took a few more drinks of hot cocoa and he waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. “Um…well, after they found the vial that seemed to be all the _proof_ they needed that I was guilty.” She spat the word ‘proof’ like it was curse, scowling at her mug. “That’s when they started—” she gestured to her neck with a grimace “—even though I wasn’t fighting back, the bastards. Ilberd tossed me around all the way to the banquet hall then Taledji accused me and the other Scions in front of the other leaders and everyone.”

“Was Ser Aymeric there?”

Rain shook her head immediately. “No, he wasn’t. …Wait, he should’ve been, right?”

He nodded. “Ser Aymeric departed the banquet early due to an attack on the city proper during his absence. …This is quite good news.”

“How’s that?”

“Because if Ser Aymeric had witnessed all this unfold and done nothing, I would have had cause to doubt his character. I shall inform him of what transpired after we are finished here. I have no doubt he will wish to speak to you himself if he is able.”

“But what of the Admiral and Seedseer?” Alphinaud asked. “You failed to mention them last night.”

“Well…after the accusations were made…Raubahn came to himself and lashed out at Taledji and accused him of orchestrating everything. He said some things that were quite rude and Raubahn just _snapped._ Sliced him open, damn near cut him in half. Then Lolorito challenged him and Rauban went after him and Ilberd cut off his arm. The Seedseer and the Admiral were ushered out by their own people after that. Then Raubahn and Ilberd started fighting. He managed to cut me loose and told us to run, so we did. We—Minfilia, Y’shtola, Papalymo, Yda and I—met up with Thancred not far away and we made a plan to escape but then some Blades and Braves caught up to us. Yda and Papalymo stayed behind to fight them off while we escaped down into the tunnels and catacombs beneath the palace. I—I thought we were home free…but it didn’t take long for more to find us. Y’sthola and Thancred stayed behind again to buy us time… and _then_ …” she gritted her teeth. “Then when we were only just away, Hydaelyn spoke to Minfilia and told her to go back…and she…” Rain squeezed her eyes shut. “I went on alone. Alphinaud found me outside the catacombs. You know the rest.”

“ _Hydaelyn_ bid Minfilia return?” Alphinaud repeated, incredulous. “To what end? She is hardly a disciple of combat arts.”

Rain shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Haurchefant leaned forward, draping his arms across his knees. “So, the surviving leaders of Eorzea bore witness to the accusations against you but not against your escape, nor did they offer any manner of aid. General Raubahn has been critically injured and is either now a prisoner or dead. All members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn must be considered prisoners, fugitives, or deceased, along with any allies who may have come to their aid. And therefore, all active members of the Crystal Braves should be considered enemies of you and of House Fortemps.”

“Of House Fortemps?” Alphinaud echoed.

“The enemy of my friend is my enemy,” Haurchefant replied simply. “As our allies, those who would work against you are our enemies.”

He blinked. “Quite.”  
  
“As I said last night, you may consider Camp Dragonhead as your home and headquarters as long as you require.” Haurchefant stood. “However, given what has occurred, I must go and see Ser Aymeric at once. I anticipate it may take several bells for me to secure even a few minutes of his time, but I will return by—”

“You’re leaving?” Alphinaud looked stricken.

“I would not dare risk penning what you have told me.”

“And if the Crystal Braves were to arrive in your absence?” the boy demanded. “Rain and I are hardly in any condition to defend ourselves.”

Haurchefant shook his head. “I would not expect you to. The entire camp has been made aware of the situation and the necessity of your defense. My absence will make little difference. Furthermore, Ul’Dah is clear across the continent. It will be some time before they think to look here. With luck, your safety will be ironclad by then.”

* * *

 

It had been quite some time since Lady Yaelle had been tasked with sentry duty. As a knight, merely standing watch was a bit below her pay grade. But after what she had learned at breakfast, she could hardly say no when Haurchefant asked her to man the southern watch tower. Being keen of eye, she was ideal choice to be their early warning system…just in case.

She _hoped_ one of those blue-coated bastards would show up. She had yet to hear the full story of what had transpired, but she had been to the infirmary last night to deliver some clothes and she had inadvertently glimpsed the Warrior of Light and her companion on the cot. The bruises were hard to miss, even from a distance. She had seen that woman face down dragons hundreds of times her size and walk away with little more than a light battering. Heaven only knew what had happened for her assailants to have had such an advantage over her, but it had not been a fair fight, of that she was sure. Honorless cowards.

Sunset was perhaps three hours away when Yaelle spotted a rider approaching Dragonhead at top speed. At first, she thought it was a Midlander and as she neared, Yaelle began to pick out details like fair skin and black hair, and then the presence of another. A child or lala, it was hard to say. However, as the chocobo approached the gate, Yaelle realized that the woman had strange growths on the sides of her head that were decidedly _not_ hyurian. T’was not a miqo’te, either, nor a lalafell or elezen of unusual size. Which really only left—

“Dragon woman!” one sentry barked from below and drew his sword. The other drew theirs as well and held it in front of them in warning.

The chocobo did not slow as it neared, nor did the dragon woman heed their cries to halt. Just as Yaelle was sure she was going to charge the gate, she yanked on the reigns and the chocobo skidded to a halt mere fulms from the two guards. It wore no barding nor any sigils to indicate where it was from, only a saddle. Stolen, most like.

“Begone at once, dragon woman!” the first sentry commanded. “You aren’t welcome here.”

The dragon woman was neither cowed nor impressed. “I must speak with Lord Haurchefant at once!” she intoned with an entirely foreign accent. It was then that Yaelle realized there was a second passenger aboard, a lalafell, who gripped the dragon woman’s sides like their life depended on it.

“Our lord has no time for you!” the other sentry snapped and swiped his sword at her once in warning. “Begone!”

The woman gritted her teeth and the chocobo let out an indignant cry, flapping its wings at the offense. Over the noise, Yaelle heard the lalafell cry out in alarm. “I am Yugiri, Shinobi of Doma, sworn ally of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and all who they call friend.” The woman declared. “You will let me pass, for it concerns the good of the realm and the Warrior of Light.”

The sentries hesitated, glancing at each other, swords wavering. Yaelle leaned over the crenel, calling down, “And what proof have you of these claims?”

The lalafell peered over the woman’s shoulder. “I’m T-Tataru Taru,” she stammered. “Of—of the S-Scions of the Seventh Dawn. We were told that two of our people made it here!”

Yaelle narrowed her eyes suspiciously. It could be the truth. The name Tataru was not unfamiliar to her though there was no way to determine this woman was who she claimed. …Then again, that lalafell wasn’t a proper coat. Who in their right mind would venture this far north without protection from the elements if they had any choice? “Hold,” Yalle ordered and made for the stairs.

The dragon woman was scowling at the sentries when Yaelle emerged from the gates. Up close, it was quite clear from their pale skin and chapped lips that they both had been exposed to the elements for some time. The dragon woman, at least, seemed to be faring better than her companion, but the look on her face was bordering on threatening.  
  
“You are quite bold to come here, dragon woman,” Yalle told her.

“I would ride into Garlemald,” the woman replied without hesitation, “if it would keep them safe. My honor demands it.”

Yaelle raised her eyebrows. “And you, lalafell, tell me the names of the people you believe are here.”  
  
“Rain and Alph-phinaud Levilleur.”

“And how did you come by this information?”

“Cid Garlond,” the dragon woman replied in her stead. “He who flew them here in his airship.”

Well, that was that. Yaelle highly doubted the enemy would know such things and worst case scenario, there were only two of them. “Let them pass,” she ordered. The sentries hesitated. “Now!”

One of them flinched and they both sheathed their weapons, stepping aside. Yaelle nodded once and motioned to their visitors. “Follow me.”

“Thank you,” the dragon woman said curtly and urged her chocobo forward.

Yaelle bid them dismount in the courtyard and motioned for a nearby soldier to have the chocobo delivered safely to the stables. The dragon woman carefully dismounted, careful to not knock her riding companion from the saddle, then held out her arms for the lalafell to grab onto. Yaelle moved to help and together they got her safely on the ground. However, she barely had taken a single step before her knees gave out and she topped forward. The dragon woman took it in stride, kneeling before her, and ordered her to climb on her back. Yaelle, being far bigger and stronger than the dragon woman, decided she should carry her instead, and Tataru had no objections.

She was light, no heavier than a child of eight or nine summers, though she was likely twice that age at the least.

“Thank you,” Tataru mumbled. “I’m not normally this weak but we’ve been riding for hours.”

“From whence have you come?” Yaelle asked.

“Vesper Bay.”

“I do not know it.”

“Oh, no, you wouldn’t, I’m sorry. ’Tis about an hour due west of Ul’Dah by chocobo, on the coastline of Thanalan.”

Yaelle nodded. That helped a little. She recalled a map of Eozea in her head and her eyes widened as she realized just how _far_ they had traveled. “You mean to say you came all that way in less than a _day_?”

“No,” the dragon woman replied, shaking her head. “By a stroke of fortune, we both were capable of utilizing the aetherytes to reach Gridania.”

Two lightweight passengers on a single chocobo could make the journey from Gridania in perhaps…six bells. Far too long to be out in the cold, even if the lands to the south weren’t quite gripped by winter yet. T’was a miracle neither of them had the cold sickness.

Tataru sagged in relief when they entered the building. “Warmth,” she sighed, pleased.

They climbed the stairs to the infirmary and they had scarce cleared the last step when Tataru let out an ear-piercing shriek.

“ _Alphinaud!”_

The young elezen, who was sipping from a mug by the fire, jumped in surprise and whirled around. His eyes flipped wide upon seeing Tataru and he gasped her name. She wriggled in Yaelle’s grip as if to free herself, but the knight held fast.

“Easy, miss, or you will fall over,” Yaelle cautioned, ears still ringing. Tataru nodded, and before anyone could say anything further, she burst into tears.

Alphinaud leaped to his feet, just as the Warrior of Light came stumbling out of the ward. Both were dressed in an ill-fitting hodgepodge of clothes and were in desperate need of a hair brush but such things did not matter to the lalafell who was sobbing her heart out it in utter relief. Alphinaud scrambled across the room and Yaelle decided to set Tataru down. No sooner had she done so when Alphinaud and Rain both dropped to their knees in front of their friend and all pulled each other into a fierce hug.

“You’re al-ri-i-ight!” Tataru wailed. “I-I wa-as s-so wor-r-ied!”

“What in the world?” exclaimed the chirurgeon on duty, emerging from the next room over.

Yaelle dipped her head and motioned to the pile on the ground, then to the dragon woman watching the scene with a serene smile. “Madam, I have brought two more patients for you.”

“Where are the others?” Tataru cried suddenly, drawing back to look at her friend’s faces. “Cid couldn’t say!”

Their expressions fell as one. In any other situation it may have been comical but here, now, it was the only response either could give and more than enough to tell the poor lalafell all she needed to know. Her expression crumpled, she let out a sob, then buried her face in their shoulders once more.


	2. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's just too much to take alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I usually don't write in present tense these days but for some God unknown reason, I kept defaulting back into present tense when I was writing this so I finally just gave up and let it happen.  >____> Deal with it, I guess.

I remember pitying the Doman refugees once upon a time, when they were yet strangers to this land, a terrifyingly small number of survivors of what surely had been a massacre. Stripped of their homes, their land, their traditions, all for the sake of the Empire’s greed. I remember thinking ‘how could people do this to other people?’ I have asked myself this many times over the course of my life and I have yet to find a satisfying answer. I did what I could to aid them, all of the Scions did, but we are few, we are poor, and we hold no power not allowed to us by the city-states. They found refuge in Revenant’s Toll, a settlement where all are outsiders and anyone with a skill can earn a place, and I watched as they strove to make it their home, as many an adventurer already had. As the Scions had. As I had.

Now…I do not dare try and place myself on the same level as the Domans. I willingly left my home and people behind to travel the world, after all. Yet with what I know transpired in Othard, I cannot help but draw comparisons between my situation and theirs. Betrayed by those we trusted, forced to flee for our lives and freedom, abandoning almost all our worldly possessions, leaving loved ones behind, all but exiled to a foreign land where nothing we know is the same and the living conditions are less than ideal.

For them, it was Mor Dhona. For me, it’s Coerthas.

Bloody freezing Coerthas.

I don’t know how these people live their lives here, day in and day out, with no relief of summer in sight. No wonder an air perpetual of glumness hangs over the region. The cold just sucks all hope out of everything and there’s never enough sunlight.

Her tears the first day notwithstanding, Tataru outwardly seems largely unaffected by our circumstances, though I know her well enough to see that this is just a front. She is mourning the loss of the other Scions but quietly, subtly, choosing instead to focus her efforts on bolstering our spirits and proving herself an asset to Camp Dragonhead in whatever way she can. Alphinaud is old enough to be considered an adult by Eorzean standards but elezen mature and age ever so slowly and he is still a child in many respects. Small wonder that he struggles to reign his negative emotions and keep his chin up, blaming himself as he does for the corruption of the Crystal Braves and the fall of the Scions.

And me, I…

…

I think, more than anything, I’m angry. No, I am furious. At the world, at those blue-coat traitors, at the monetarists, and my fellow Scions. I think, maybe, more so at them than anyone else.

How _dare_ they stay behind to cover our escape? How _dare_ they value my life over theirs? They are the keys to Eorzea’s safety and salvation. I am but a weapon to be wielded, when all is said and done. I have no political power, no skill with words, no history or ties to the conflict here. The only thing I have is my fighting skills, the Echo, and the Blessing of Light. No, wait, I don’t even have _that_ anymore.

Minfilia called me the hope for the realm but I do not see how. I was nothing special before they found me and pointed me in the direction of the enemy too great for one person to handle alone.

Tataru and Alphinaud are forces to be reckoned with in their own ways when they’re at their best and I am, well, I am me, but we are hardly enough to continue the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Minfilia, Y’shtola, Thancred, Papalymo, Yda…they were the heart, the soul, of the organization. Urianger yet remains but he is woefully inaccessible to us and no doubt his movements are being tracked. With our linkpearls destroyed, should he attempt to contact us by any other available means, I have little doubt we would be discovered ere long. Besides, he has always been a bit of a…lone figure, somewhat distant. I am not as close to him as was— _am_ to the others.

They could still be alive. I have to believe they’re still alive. The Domans are searching. Raubahn’s son is doing what he can within the Flames. Haurchefant, bless him, has his allies in the other houses keeping their eyes and ears peeled for any signs of the Scions as far as their reach extends. The soldiers who escort the routine shipments to Revenant’s Toll have instructions to look for any signs of Scion survivors and, if need be, smuggle them back. So far, no luck on any of these fronts.

…but Nanamo…

I shake my head and pull my coat tighter around my body. There was nothing I could have done. The poison had worked so quickly that even if I had realized what was happening sooner, no one would have been able to save her in time.

I am angry about this most of all, I think. As Minfilia had said, _how dare they?_ After all I have done for this realm, for Ul’Dah, they would murder the Sultana and set me up to take the fall? How could anyone truly think I would hurt her? Surely those who do can be counted among the weaker-minded in Eorzea. Yet still, despite the ridiculousness of it all and the circumstantial evidence, the charges against me are real and I cannot risk making my presence known in the other city-states. While I believe the Elder Seedseer and Admiral count me and mine as innocent, the security of the Alliance would likely compel them to work against me and I will not jeopardize the realm’s unity.

I am eternally grateful for the kindness of Haurchefant and his people. I do not know what we would have done if they had not taken us in. Never did I think I would be grateful for Ishgard dragging its feet to enter the Alliance. I think it would’ve killed Haurchefant to have to turn me away for the sake of duty and loyalty.

And I think the look that would surely have been on his face may have killed me.

Of course, having refuge does not change the fact that I lost my lodgings along with many of my possessions, weapons…and my chocobo. Poor Bobby Corwen, left behind in the stables outside Ul’Dah while we attended the party within. The stable hands there had always adored Bobby for his personality and even more once his feathers had changed, I do not believe they would have allowed any harm to come to him. Perhaps they even freed him and he returned to Revenant’s Toll to find me. He’s done that before. …Assuming the Blades and or Braves didn’t slaughter him before the stable hands got the chance.

Today, I shall find out. The supply caravan is returning today from their weekly delivery to the Toll, and I gave one of the knights a special task while he was there. It would be far too risky for him to physically return Bobby Corwen to me but if I knew for a fact that he was in Revenant’s Toll or nearby, I could go and fetch him myself. I’m sure with help from the Domans that I could easily slip in and out before the Crystal Braves realize what’s happening. 

The knights were meant to return yesterday but a sudden storm had swept in and Haurchefant told me not to expect them until it had passed. The clouds had cleared last night and though the winds lingered, the conditions were safe enough for travel once more. Assuming they had stopped at the Observatory, they would have stayed for breakfast before departing, meaning they could arrive any time now. And until they do, I’ll be waiting here atop the battlement.

Much to the chagrin of the knight on duty up here, I think.

“M’lady,” says the older man with his back to the lit brazier atop the battlement. “I fear if you pace much longer you shall wear a hole in the stone.”

These walls were built to withstand dragon attacks. If pacing is what does them in, someone ought to have a word with the builder. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if knights of old hadn’t already had stern words with the designers and builders of this place in the afterlife. The west side of camp was woefully exposed. In the time I’ve been here, we’ve had two karakuls and a goobbue wander in and if the reactions were anything to go by, both were a common occurrence. Hells, if I ever got the chance to poke my head into Halone’s halls after I died, I might find the bloke and have a few choice words myself.

“M’lady, please, you ought to go inside,” the knight insisted. “If it is the caravan you await then there is naught you can do to speed them along just by waiting here.”

I pause in my pacing and look at him. I must be distracting him from his post and I feel guilty. “I gave one of the knights a task, ser,” I murmur. “If he was successful, then I will know at least one friend of mine survived Ul’Dah.”

The knight gives me a look of sympathy and nods once before returning his eyes to the lands beyond the walls. For his sake, I confine my pacing to the section of the wall between his post and a small room at the other end. My agitation swells all the while.

If Bobby was killed for the crime of being my chocobo, I will give Ul’Dah a _real_ reason to want me imprisoned.

The guard changes after a time and the older man is replaced by a woman perhaps a few summers older than me. By then I am leaning against a crenel overlooking the slope of the hill towards the Observatory. She takes note of me but does not try to have a conversation with me. The knights of House Fortemps respect me a great deal and I know that their silence is out of consideration. Haurchefant alone regularly speaks to me for anything other than important matters.

And speaking of the Lord of Dragonhead…I suppose I should not be surprised.

“Tis nearly time for the noon meal,” he says without preamble, joining me against the wall. “And yet, if I was told true, you have been up here since the conclusion of the morning one.”

I sigh and close my eyes. Of course, that guard would have been concerned for me and who better to intreat than the commander himself?

“Mayhap you would be willing to enlighten me as to why?” Haurchefant asks kindly. “You will receive no judgement from me.”

I take a deep breath through my nose and exhale through my mouth. “Bobby,” I reply. “I asked one of your men to enquire discreetly about Bobby.” Finally, I look up at his face and I see understanding and sympathy.

“I understand. Tis a hard thing to lose so many of one’s friends at once. I do hope they return with favorable news.”

“You’re not…angry?”

“Rain,” he says, his voice like the warm cocoa drink he loves so much, “you would have to go to great lengths for me to ever be angry at you. I’ve been cross, perhaps, but never angry. And in this case, I understand why you kept it to yourself.” He smiles reassuringly at me. “I confess, I have not given your chocobo much thought until today. I suppose I assumed he was safe. It did not occur to me that he had been left in Revenant’s Toll.”  
  
“In Ul’Dah,” I correct. “There’s a chance he went home, though, and if he’s in the Toll, I can get to him.”

“You mustn’t!” Haurchefant cries, startling me. I whip my head around. “Are not the Crystal Braves there? If they catch you—”

Anger sparks, white hot in my blood, and sears through me like wildfire. “Then I will cut each and every last one of them down like the traitors they are!” I snap and shove away from the merlon. He says my name softly and I ignore him. “They deserve it! For Nanamo, if no one else.” He catches me by the arm. I look at his hand and then his face and close my eyes at the emotion there.

I am just so…so _angry_. So much has happened and I don’t know how to handle it all. But anger is easier than sadness, guilt, or any of those other complicated emotions lurking, waiting, ready to break me down for all to see. So long as I am the Warrior of Light, I cannot let people see me as weak. My anger is all I have.

“I agree with you,” Haurchefant says softly. “What they did to the sultana is unforgivable, but, please, I implore you, do not risk yourself needlessly. I cannot protect you if you go to Mor Dhona.”

My eyes snap open and I jerk my arm out of his grip. “I can take care of myself! And I’ll have the Domans to help me should I need it.”

“I did not mean to imply you were incapable,” he placated, “I was referring to the fact that my influence ends where Coerthas does. If you are apprehended on Ishgardian soil then the might of House Fortemps, and perhaps the others as well, can come to your aid. Beyond our borders, however, you are at their mercy.”

I shake my head and turn away from him, resting my hands on the crenel once more. “I appreciate your concern, but if my chocobo is there, then I’m going. Today, probably, and I’ll thank you to leave me be.”

“You cannot mean to risk your life for a chocobo!”

My hands curl into fists against the stone and I spit between my teeth, “I am not yours to command, _Lord Greystone._ ”

Haurchefant falls silent but I do not turn to face him. The anger fades as suddenly as it arrived and now the guilt is creeping upon me once more. If there is anyone in the world who does not deserve my anger, it is him. He has done everything he could for me, even when I was naught but another adventurer strolling into camp, hardened by Ishgardian hospitality and bitter from my losses, the cold, and the work I’d done. I’d been nothing to him then and yet he’d welcomed me. I’d been cold and curt, and he had been polite and kind. He ever deserved naught but the same from me.

“Forgive me,” I murmur.

He does not respond right away and I am sure I’ve gone and done it now.

“Everyone handles loss differently,” Haurchefant finally says and I think I must be hearing him wrong because he sounds sad. “We here in Ishgard are raised to expect it and even still we are not immune. I would not expect you to be. But, my friend, you cannot allow these emotions to rule you. Those who do often fall victim to the call of vengeance.”

Vengeance sounds all-too appealing to me and I bow my head. Chainmail clinks softly as he inches closer.

“Far too many men and women of Ishgard have allowed the drive for revenge to consume them and I would hate to see you go the same way.” He places his hands beside mine, but I still do not look at his face. “I am ever busy, my dear, but I am not blind. Tataru and Alphinaud have seen to busying themselves with various administrative tasks but you, Rain…”

I spend many of my waking hours away from the camp. I hunt, I gather, I complete various tasks for people as necessary. The levemetes have either not heard or don’t care that I’m a wanted criminal and are happy to do business with me. I do not join training sessions though I’ve been invited. I dine beside Alphinaud and Tataru but speak to no one. I do not attempt to integrate myself, I avoid socialization as much as I can, and when the weather is too foul to roam, I seclude myself in my room.

“…I have scarcely seen you anywhere, apart from meals, though you’ve missed a fair share of them as well. But even more absent is your smile.” He leans forward and I see him looking at me from the corner of my eye. “I don’t think I’ve seen it in all the time you’ve been here. Smiles of relief hardly count.”

Finally, I turn to face him. Part of me would like to smile at him but I cannot even muster the strength to do that, not genuinely, and he would see through my act in a heartbeat. Instead I press my lips together and exhale through my nose.

“Isolating yourself will not help,” he warns me, concern etched across his features. “Nor will attempting to hold your emotions in. If you wish for someone to talk to, I am more than willing. You need only ask. There is no shame in relying on others and there is nothing you could tell me that would make me think any less of you.”

I wonder if it’s true. What would he say if he knew the wyrmking himself followed in my shadow? That I thought there was merit to the heretics’ cause? That I perhaps had more blood on my hands than he did? That I had allowed innocent people to die?

Sighing, I duck my head for a moment then look towards the Observatory once more. “I have to do this,” I say.

“Will it help you?” he asks.

To save someone dear to me after losing so many in one fell swoop? I nod.

Haurchefant inhales deeply through his nose, exhaling slowly. “I do not believe it wise for you to risk your life in such a way. Your friends may have very well sacrificed themselves for you and such a gift must needs be honored. Yet I know full well the desire to rescue someone dear, even in the face of bitter odds. I will not stop you but grant me a measure of assurance and tell me you have a plan.”

I take a deep breath and nod again. I have several rudimentary ones, each depending on where Bobby may be and how many Crystal Braves are present. With help from the Domans, I am certain I can get in, get to him, and teleport away before I am caught. If not, I will ride south into the wastes of Mor Dhona and teleport once I’ve lost my pursuers.

I tell Haurchefant all of this and he listens without interrupting. When I am finished, he looks somewhat displeased. “And what of Alphinaud and Tataru? Have you informed them of this plan of yours?”

I shake my head. They would only try and talk me out of it. Or worse: attempt to come along. Tataru, at least, has enough sense to know she would only do more harm than good but Alphinaud…. I am not arrogant enough to proclaim that I work better alone, for this is far from true, but this will require me being in and out quick and possibly fleeing under harsh conditions.

“There is nothing they can do to help,” is what I say.

“And me? I daresay you had no intentions of informing me even though I am in the perfect position to assist you.”  
  
“You’re also in the perfect position to stop me.”

“But since we’ve established I’ll not be doing that…mayhap you would be open to letting me help? Lest you forget, one does not get to be where I am without significant skill in the art of strategy.” He smiles at me with more than a little smugness and I must concede he has a point. I had been so focused on doing this myself and not involving anyone else for fear they would stop or hinder me that I had not considered the benefits of asking for his help.

“What do you have in mind?”

Haurchefant steps away from the wall and I turn curiously. He motions in the direction of the stairs. “A conversation such as this is best had indoors, I think. Come, waiting here will do naught to hasten their arrival and will only serve to tax your body needlessly.”

My eyes turn to the path leading south once more. The Observatory looms in the distance. The caravan could be returning right this minute, could appear from behind those trees at any second, and—

A comforting hand on my shoulder, voice soft, gentle, kind, “Please, my dear.”

I sigh loudly. That’s not fair. That’s not fair at all. But it works. Damn him, it works, and I allow him to guide me down from the battlement. He leads me around the corner towards the intercessory—ah, pardon me, the _Falling Snows_. He asks the guard if either Alphinaud or Tataru are within then instructs him to see to it that our lunch be delivered.

The fire is already going when we enter. I think it must be someone’s job around here to keep every hearth going all the time even when no one is in the room. Warmth envelops me like a hug and I realize just how cold I had gotten out there. My nose and cheeks are numb and my fingers feel like ice in their gloves. I grab a chair from the table as I pass and set it in front of the fire, stripping myself of my coat and gloves, then settle down to warm myself. I listen as Haurchefant crosses the room and picks up a chair of his own.

He sits down beside me and out of the corner of my eye I see he’s giving my attire an appraising look. Ever since arriving with naught but my formal clothes on my back, I, like Tataru and Alphinaud, have had no choice but to wear clothing provided to us by the residents of Dragonhead. That I was prepared to depart the moment I received confirmation that Bobby was alive clearly shows in my choice of attire. Haurchefant sighs heavily but does not chastise me or even shake his head.

“Mayhap you ought to see if you can recover some of your belongings as well,” he suggests.

“Would I could,” I grumble. “But I have no doubt the Crystal Braves already ransacked my quarters.”

“Did you live within the Rising Stones?”

“Not quite. The Toll has a lot of space dedicated to living quarters. I don’t think it was intended to be that way but when the Domans moved in, it became a necessity. I’ve my own private room. It’s not much but it’s mine,” I add, smiling wistfully. I had taken great care to set my space up how I liked it, setting aside money for a soft bed, a chair to relax in, a shelf for books, a small desk, and a few trunks for storage. Once, I had thought of perhaps buying a plot of land for a house in one of the areas set aside by each city-state for adventurers to settle in, but the cost did not seem worth it considering how little time I would spend there. My little dormitory was hardly a home but…it _was_ mine.

He smiles. “First things first, we need to get you _into_ the Toll without being detected, provide you with ample time to conduct your business and a way in which to do so. If you are content to wait a week, I see no reason why you cannot accompany the next supply wagon. A hauberk, a shield, maybe a helmet, and you’d simply be another knight in the procession!”

I frown. The idea has merit but those helmets of theirs are quite limiting. “But…I would needs keep my face hidden the entire time. Is that not impractical when dealing with cargo?”

“Perhaps,” he agrees. “But you would need not help with the work. The disguise is simply to provide you a way inside the Toll without incident. Without the shield, you might well be simply another adventurer!”

I bite my lip. It could work, I suppose. But a week was a long time to wait and every minute he spends away from me was another minute something horrible could happen to him. Haurchefant must see the hesitance on my face because he hums thoughtfully.

“Or perhaps…if you are insistent on departing today, I could arrange for you to be given a chocobo. We have plenty in our stables, yellow ones as well as black. If we forgo the barding, one of our chocobos would be indistinguishable from any other to the untrained eye. You could simply ride through the gates. Had you not planned something similar already?”

“Something similar,” I agree.

“We can provide you a cloak to hide your features. You could move about the Toll innocuously. Of course, there still is the matter of a distraction.”

“The Domans can see to that.”

“Yes, but without securing their aid beforehand, it is unwise to depend on their influence,” Haurchefant warns. “If you wish to count on their aid then you must needs make contact with them ahead of time. Should you require, I can arrange for word to be sent to...oh, pardon me, her name eludes me at the moment. The woman who delivered Tataru safely here?”

“Lady Yugiri,” I say.

“Yes, her. Her title alone suggests she holds some import.”

“She’s...the de facto leader.”

“Well, there you are then. I’m sure she is an easy woman to get ahold of and, considering our relationship with Mor Dhona, a letter from myself would not be deemed suspicious should any unsavory characters get their hands on it. And since she knows you are here, I daresay even the smallest hint of a summons would convince her to come.”

I nod. He could probably send a coded message and Lady Yugiri would be able to figure it out. She was good like that. ...But this would take time. There was no guarantee she was even in Revenant’s Toll and it could take her longer than a week to arrive. With a quiet groan, I bury my head in my hands.

“Shall I draft the letter? Or would you rather wait for the caravan to arrive?”

I nod again.

“Was that to the first or the second?”

I nod and he laughs.

* * *

 

The caravan does not return until after lunch is over. Upon learning of their return, Haurchefant asks which of his soldiers I had entrusted with my task and summons him to the intercessory. Austenne, a man of approximately twenty summers, with the roundish face of an elezen not yet fully matured and mousy hair that liked to do as it pleased. He was eager to please, loyal to Haurchefant, and young enough that a secret mission would appeal to him. He had been the perfect candidate for the task.

When he arrives, Haurchefant and I are seated at the table, he in the large chair and me in a smaller one beside him. Austenne salutes Haurchefant with respect but his eyes stray to me nervously. Of course, I had told him he must keep his task secret from everyone, including his lord. The last part had not sat well with him but I’d sworn I would take any punishment he may incur for doing so.

“Be at ease, friend,” Haurchefant says soothingly. “I am aware of what the Warrior asked of you and you have naught to fear. Rather, I must commend you for your willingness to assist her in this matter.”

“I…” Austenne blinks quickly, looking between us, then dips his head. “It was my honor.”

Haurchefant smiles and motions to the chair across from us where a mug of tea awaits him. “Come, you have traveled far. Have a seat, warm yourself, and we shall talk.”

The young elezen does so, lifting the mug to inspect the contents curiously, then takes a sip. A smile spreads across his face and he drinks. Despite my impatience to learn what he knows, I am content to allow him this moment to relax. He has done much in the last few days and I have nothing else to offer him in reward for his task.

“When you are ready,” Haurchefant says.

Austenne nods. “Of course, my lord.” He looks at me and I know immediately that he brings good news. “Your chocobo is indeed in Revenant’s Toll.”

Air rushes from my mouth and it is as if heavy stones fly from my insides with it. Safe. He’s _safe._ He, at least, made it out of Ul’Dah alive. Thank the Twelve. For the first time in weeks, I smile. Weak, relieved laughter bubbles up from my chest and I grin at them both. Haurchefant smiles in return.

“However, I did not initially believe he was,” Austenne goes on. “You adventurers certainly enjoy changing your chocobo’s feathers but yours has always had a rather distinct hue and I didn’t see it when I was looking through the stables. Nor were the stable hands of any help, rather they were quite determined to protect him. Ere I was ready to depart, a Doman woman inquired as to my motives. Pardon me, my lady, for I know you wished me to keep my business a secret, but I had seen this woman in your company before so I thought, of all the people there, she could be trusted.”

“Lady Yugiri?” Haurchefant asks.

“Yes, indeed. I told her what I sought and for whom and she said a few words to the stable hands. It would seem they have been protecting your chocobo for several days now. And…er…” he pauses and quickly takes another sip of tea. Clearing his throat, “How attached are you to his color?”

I narrow my eyes.

“Because…they thought the simplest way to hide him would be to…er…turn his feathers black.”

Oh, well, if that’s all they did. Black wasn’t a bad color on chocobos and it would have certainly been simpler than trying to give him yellow feathers once more. I had certainly seen more than one black chocobo in Revenant’s Toll. I shrug to let him know I am unbothered.

“Well, apart from that, he seemed quite the same as normal. Gave me a good sniffing and I believe he must’ve smelled you on me or something because he got rather excited.”

“And there you have it,” Haurchefant says to me. “Austenne, did you perhaps take notice of the Crystal Braves while you were there?”

Austenne nods. “Of course, my lord. They were there, certainly, though this time none of them assisted us. I confess I was more focused on the chocobos though perhaps one of the others saw more than I did.”

“I have little doubt. I shall debrief them shortly. Is there anything else of import you would share with us?”

“Um…yes, actually. It was the cause of our delay. Though, I think perhaps you ought to simply see for yourselves.”

* * *

 

Four trunks of different sizes, innocuous except for the Ironworks insignias and blue decal, easily mistaken for a small a shipment from Cid’s business. Except to my knowledge, Dragonhead has no existing contract with Ironworks, and this is not how Ironworks does things. I’ve been the security detail for a few of their shipments in the past. These trunks are valuable and require a special keycard to open, which usually is entrusted to one member of the transport crew. Upon reaching the destination, the trunks are unloaded, and then taken right back to Ironworks and my job wasn’t over until they were safely in the building once more. He would never simply surrender these.

And something the Ishgardians didn’t order specifically would need an Ironworks representative to explain the contents and their importance, uses, maintenance, and so on. Most Eorzeans don’t know how to make heads or tails of Ironworks inventions at first and those people haven’t been stuck in a technological stagnation for centuries

The captain of the caravan tells us that these are from Cid Garlond himself, intended as a thank you for their continued support of the Toll. I frown skeptically.

“He bade me give this to the one who would know its purpose.” The captain says, pulling a black and blue keycard from a small pouch on his waist, and hands it to me without hesitation.

I take it and turn it over in my hands. Something is definitely amiss here but I have no reason to doubt this man or Cid Garlond. I kneel down in front of the chest closest to me, sliding the keycard into the lock. There’s a tiny beep and a click and the trunk unlocks. I open the lid and my frown deepens at the sight of the contents. A few outfits, some books, scrolls, quills, a few pieces of jewelry, and a stuffed bear. The only thing notable about any of it is that the clothes appear to be for a child. Hardly any of this resembles a product of Ironworks or something suitable as a gift. I retrieve the keycard and open the next trunk. Haurchefant kneels beside me and inspects the first trunk for himself.

“How odd,” he remarks.

I lift the lid of the second trunk and gasp. Familiar articles of clothing, books, a very unique grimoire, two custom-made jewelry boxes…. I reach inside and lift the topmost article of clothing from the pile just to confirm what I’m seeing. Only a handful of these exist in the realm and most are made with conjurers in mind. The inky black material almost seems to shine even in the cloudy afternoon light and I let out a delighted cry at the sight of it.

These are my things!

I hug the robe to my chest and laugh breathlessly. Holding my robe close with one hand, I look into the first chest once more and lift one of the carefully folded shirts within. Not child size… _lalafellin_ size!

It seems Haurchefant and I are of one mind because he turns to the soldiers watching and orders them to fetch Alphinaud and Tataru, quickly!

I return Tataru’s shirt and my robe to their respective trunks and set about opening the other two. The next trunk contains the weapons and tools I had not taken with me to Ul’Dah, carefully wrapped in leather or tucked safely in their sheathes, along with a few more sturdy pieces of armor. The final chest is undoubtedly Alphinaud’s, containing a number of books, a few articles of clothing and shoes, as well as some quills, ink, scrolls, and a few bits and bobs I cannot name.

Returning to my trunk, I carefully rifle through the stack of clothing to see what made it. I know it would not have been possible for whoever’s responsible to have grabbed everything of mine but if they managed to get the more important things, I will be forever grateful. Oh, what am I thinking? I am forever grateful regardless. My battle robes are here, as well as a few leather garments, even a few of my finer casual pieces. And, oh, at the bottom, my wonderful Glacial Coat.

Blessings on whoever thought to save this for me.

Soldiers return with Tataru and Alphinaud in tow and the former lets out a delighted scream when she sees what’s inside her trunk. She immediately cuddles the stuffed bear to her chest.

“B-but how?” Alphinaud stammers, gazing at his belongings.

I shake my head and look to the caravan captain for answers. He merely shrugs in return.

“Who cares how?!” Tataru cries, tears in her eyes, and reaches into her trunk. “Ooh, I can’t believe it!”

Nor can I. Blinking quickly against the telltale feeling of oncoming tears, I carefully smooth out my clothing pile and close the lids of my trunks. Cid is a genius and I swear, the next time I see the man…well, I’m not sure how I can repay him, but I’ll think of something. Eventually.

Our trunks are carried to our quarters and Haurchefant recommends we all take some time to unpack and unwind, though I am certain the latter was aimed at me specifically. It’s just as well, I’m a little…overwhelmed. All this time I have believed my possessions to be lost and now I learn that not only had someone had the foresight to rescue not only mine, but Alphinaud and Tataru’s belongings as well, and had conspired with Cid to see them to us. Only Lady Yugiri knew that all three of us had escaped to Ishgard, it had to have been her.

There is something unexpectedly relaxing about unpacking these trunks yet I cannot for the life of me figure out why. Mayhap it is the sense of familiarity in all of it, the stability that each object provides. I am well used to staying in new places and have grown accustomed to my chambers here at Camp Dragonhead, however small, but none of the things around me were truly _mine_ until now. My sparse wardrobe is slowly filled with my armor, robes, and other bits of gear, the donated clothes from the Camp residents pushed to the side to be used only when necessary. I tuck my tools and weapons inside as well.

My gathering set is here, along with my hatchet and scythe, as is my artisan gear, though only a few of my tools are here. My spinning wheel, unfortunately, was left behind—a shame considering its fine quality—but should the need arise, I know the camp has a few to spare. Some of my combat gear didn’t make it, either, but as I finish taking stock, I am certain I have enough to adequately do battle in any of my areas of expertise. All my mage gear made it, much to my delight, including my favorite grimoire and its corresponding quill. My shinobi armor is here, too. Between both, I am certain I could fend off any dragons, gobbues, or heretics that attack camp. These will also make completing the levemete’s tasks much simpler as well.

The keys were not included so I have no choice but to break the locks on my little jewelry boxes. I have little doubt they weren’t broken into but still, seeing my jewelry safe in one and whistles safe in the other was no small comfort. I had amassed a small collection of steeds in my travels, I would hate for one of them to fall into the hands of an unsavory character in my absence. Summoning any of them now would be risky seeing as none are indigenous to this area or, in some cases, common at all, and would likely be a dead giveaway, so they’re not much use to me, but still, it’s nice to have them back.

My book of maps is here, along with my set of journals, which is a relief. I have always been meticulous in keeping account of my travels, a habit which has only grown over my time in Eorzea. To lose these would have been truly tragic. The most current journal should be in Bobby Corwen’s saddlebag, assuming he still has it, much to my frustration these last weeks. I was able to write my account of events in Ul’Dah on stationary provided to me but I will feel better once I have it in my journal as well.

Most of my valuable bits and bobs are here but the supplies I kept around for general recipes are not. All in all, about three quarters of my possessions made it, and that it all fit within these two trunks is somewhat sobering. Do I truly own so little in this world? Such is the life of an adventurer, I suppose.

I shed the tough leathers I’ve been wearing and don my black, fur-trimmed vanya robe instead, along with a pair of snug wool leggings, sturdy boots, and gloves. I spend a few minutes brushing my hair out then pin it back from my face. Satisfied, I head for the door…then decide to clip my grimoire to my belt. One should always be prepared around here.

Outside, the difference is astonishing. The air is chilly against my face but the rest of me may as well have not left the building. The effort put into gathering materials and compensation for this robe seems even more worth it now and I thank the Twelve that I had been so concerned with the weather in the Shroud and Mor Dhona when I made the decision to commission this robe. What’s more, dressed in my own clothing, I feel as if I am myself again, no longer a refugee clothed in spare garments.

I stride into the main hall with my head held high. It’s business as usual in here, though perhaps a bit emptier than normal. There are no adventurers looking for work and the half-naked drill sergeant and his daily victims are absent, too. I fervently hope it’s not because he decided to relocate down the pond today. (Honestly, some of the things the soldiers here are subjected to here in the name of endurance training would be considered tortured by many standards. If I hadn’t witnessed Haurchefant himself participating in them before I might have eventually beseeched him on his knights’ behalf. Just _thinking_ about these drills makes me shudder.)

Haurchefant appears to be writing a letter and I wonder if it is the one he means to send to Yugiri. Now that I know Bobby Corwen is under careful guard, the sense of urgency from before has eased but not my desire to have my chocobo safely with me.

“You’re looking much better,” Corentiaux comments as I pass the grand table where he sits with an unfamiliar knight wearing the colors of House Hallienarte. I nod and offer him a small smile in gratitude.

Haurchefant gives my outfit a lingering look and then gestures to the chairs in front of his desk. “He is right. What an effect little pieces of home can have on a weary soul. Tataru passed through here a few minutes ago with a genuinely cheery disposition. I daresay even Master Alphinaud will be smiling at dinner.”

That Tataru is acting like her normal self brings another smile to my face as I sit in front of his desk. Haurchefant is quite pleased. “What an effect, indeed. Though I wonder…” He leans forward, inspecting my robe once again. I am just about to point out that perhaps he ought not to be staring at my torso so openly when he cocks his head to the side. “Is this perhaps the robe for which we slew Downy Dunstan?”

He remembers that? I nod, surprised, and he settles back into his chair. “The wool itself was not a material,” I explain, “but part of the compensation. Reckon it went on to become yarn or cloth or something.”

Haurchefant shakes his head. “Granted limitless strength and vitality by Bahamut, only to end up as part of a pair of socks and a stew.”

“My lord…” Corentiaux says in a tone not unlike the one I remember hearing in my youth when I would get into trouble. “With all due respect, please tell me you did not attempt to convince the Warrior of Light such nonsense.”

“He did,” I reply and the younger knight shakes his head while the man of Haillenarte regards me with a look of awe.

“I did not!” Haurchefant protests. “I merely chose to bestow upon her some knowledge of local legends.”

Corentiaux shakes his head. “My lord, please. Everyone knows he was a servant of Nidhogg.” 

With that, he turns around in his chair and I let out a strangled sound. Across the room, I am certain I hear someone cough to hide a laugh. I look at Haurchefant but he merely shrugs as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

Gods, these people and their bloody _sheep_.

“Nevertheless, it suits you,” Haurchefant says, nodding to my robe. “Does this mean you’ve had a chance to sort through your belongings? Did most of it reach us?”

I nod.

“Then that it is one less thing we needs worry about in the Toll,” he declares with a look of satisfaction. “Which works out wonderfully! There is, perhaps, a solution that would not require you to venture into Mor Dhona at all.”

He stands and walks around his desk to the great table where a map of Coerthas and Dravania ever sits with various figures to represent the forces and fortresses of Ishgard and Dravania respectively. I’ve never gave it much thought and certainly never seen them use it.

“After the captain gave his full report, I learned that the delay in their return was not due to the storm, but to a rendezvous with Cid Garlond and the _Enterprise_ in the late hours of last night, approximately here.” He touches an area near the edge of the map and I walk to the table to see. The region is south of here, unmarked, and according to the map is some manner of flatlands. “This is on the edge of what used to be the Coerthas southern lowlands.”

“Used to be?” I ask.

“Yes. Bahamut took issue with their existence.”

I grimace.

“Quite so. While it technically yet remains within our borders, the lands are nigh on inhospitable and few, if any, of our people remain there. A better place for a secret rendezvous with an airship you would be hard pressed to find. There are no locals to overhear what they shouldn’t, no watchers to take note of a passing airship, and no soldiers to mistake it for a dragon and take aim. Rivient chose the location wisely.”

“You plan to have Cid bring Bobby Corwen on his airship.”

He blinks once. “I, well, yes, actually.”

I nod. It’s a good idea and arguably far less risky than anything so far, including his idea to recruit Lady Yugiri with a coded letter. Except how does he plan to get Cid involved?

Haurchefant seems a bit put out that I’ve stolen his thunder but he goes on regardless. “A diplomatic gift deserves a reply, does it not? Should anyone think to question the courier, he or she would have nothing to fear, and I doubt even the Crystal Braves would risk offending one such as myself by breaking the seal on an official document.”

 _One such as yourself?_ Were we alone, I would tease him without mercy. I think he sees the mischievousness in my expression because he smirks a little.

“It is a good idea, aye,” I say, “but do you intend to let me go to this rendezvous or will I have to resort to sneaking?”

“I wouldn’t dare try and stop you,” he reassures me. “I believe your chocobo will be more inclined to actually return with you than anyone else I could send. All I ask is that you allow several days for correspondence between us to complete successfully.”

I nod. Patience has never been a strength of mine but for this, I will endure. Then I smile at him once more to show that I am grateful.

Haurchefant smiles in return, touching my shoulder, and it occurs to me once more that, despite everything that has happened, I am quite fortunate. Not just for his aid and succor, but to have him in my life, period. I suppose if we were to sit down and compare a list of deeds we have done for each other, we would come out somewhere near even, yet I could slay one thousand dragons for him and never come close to repaying him for every smile he has ever given me.

He returns to his desk but I say at the table, looking across the map of Coerthas and Dravania, the only parts of Eorzea left to me.  The regions of Coerthas are well drawn, with rivers, forests, and valleys all intricately depicted. I can even see small marks and Eorzean letters indicating the locations of villages and hamlets. There is comparatively little detail in Dravania, just vague drawings of mountains, forests, a single settlement, and a city on the western coast I know to be Sharlayan. Yet all I can see in this map is how much _isn’t_ there. How much has yet to be discovered. There are people out there, and dragons, and beastmen as well. My feet itch with the desire to go there, to see, to learn.

If my reputation as the Warrior of Light is to be stricken from the annals of history for what has happened then perhaps I may yet leave my mark in the form of mapmaking. It’s not exactly saving the realm but it’d be an adventure nonetheless. If all my friends are truly gone, if those damnable lalafellin murders are to get away with their crimes, if there is no hope for me in Eorzea, then this is what I’ll do. Until then, I still have work to do.

Besides, I’ll need my chocobo with me before I go off on any new adventures.

I look at Haurchefant and smile yet again. Perhaps, when I go, I’ll invite him along, too. We could learn Dravania together. If he doesn’t wear any Ishgardian insignias, we could pretend to be just a pair of adventurers out on their own with no ties to Ishgard. Should any dragons take issue with our presence, well, primals and their ilk have fallen to my hand. The Dravanians will be no different.

I’d like to think he’d say yes. 

* * *

 

It was an established fact to those of Dragonhead that the Warrior of Light was a formidable woman, possessing the strength and determination of a dozen knights twice her age. It was a fact that she could slaughter a dragon with the same ease with which she slew mortal heretics, and to cross her was to tempt fate. It was a fact that she was, in general, a quiet individual of a serious demeanor. Some claimed to have seen her smile and laugh as if she were a child of half as many summers in the presence of their commander, but there were not enough claims to verify their accuracy, although everyone _knew_ he was infatuated with her.

Ever since she arrived in the dark of night, half frozen from traipsing through the snow in fine clothes that spoke of formality and warm weather, she had not been herself. Anger simmered beneath the surface constantly, her eyes too sharp, her stares to intense, her responses curt and blunt. T’was as if she were a caged animal, biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

So, when Lord Haurchefant ordered they take the Warrior of Light to the rendezvous point, Captain Geomain was understandably wary. He had never been in close proximity with her before for an extended length of time, and never without the commander himself present. But it was her chocobo they were to fetch so it made sense that she would accompany them.

She was characteristically quiet for the duration of the trip. There were some smatterings of conversation from the soldiers that made up the rest of their company but she herself did not contribute, nor did she even seem to be paying attention. She seemed anxious, but he could not help but notice that some of her anger had abated.

He was however altogether unprepared for what happened when they finally arrived at the rendezvous.

Cid Garlond’s airship had beaten them there and as they approached, Captain Geomain could make out several figures on board the airship, though he could tell naught about them beyond that they were humanoid. But then the Warrior of Light had taken a peculiar whistle from her satchel and blown a single, high note which echoed across the wastelands.

Her cry did not go unanswered. A black chocobo leaped over the side of the airship, shrieking its head off, and made a beeline for them.

The Warrior of Light slowed and dismounted the chocobo she had been lent and spread her arms wide. Geomain halted the rest of procession and ordered them out of the way. The black chocobo shot past them, still shrieking and chirping, and their own chocobos began to chirp in response, flapping their wings and shaking their heads like a clutch of untrained hatchlings.

The black chocobo ran circles around the Warrior of Light and to Geomain’s surprise, she laughed, beaming, eyes bright, and reached her hands out to brush his feathers as he passed. Finally, he slowed, kwehing and warbling in a way that could only be described as _happy._ She threw her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his ebony plumage, laughing and _crying_ , and the chocobo ducked his head over her shoulder as if hugging her in return.

Geomain steadied his own chocobo then exchanged surprised looks with his soldiers…and they all silently agreed to say nothing of this to anyone.


	3. Arcane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I pull the grimoire from my hip and open it to a summoning page. “Do you trust me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now featuring 100% more Alphinaud. 
> 
> Also some romantic tension. But not at the same time.

Since we arrived in Dragonhead, I’ve spent much of my time out doing various tasks they would normally give to passing adventurers. Disposing of beastkin, gathering supplies, fetching, escorts, and the like, along with assisting the knights in any way I can. I spend more time away from the camp than I do within and not entirely by choice.

Alphinaud and Tataru, on the other hand, have remained firmly inside the safety of the walls. The latter has years of experience as a receptionist and bookkeeper and when Haurchefant found out, he practically married her on the spot. She spends most of her time in the main hall or in the Falling Snows making Haurchefant’s life a lot easier. She compiles various tallies and reports made by other camp residents to into detailed records of the camp’s supplies and finances, creating weekly lists of what needs replenished and by how much. Haurchefant must check her work over for appearances sake but he’s quite pleased to have her assistance. She also sorts the mail, has taken over handling the incoming shipments, and triple checks the supplies bound for Mor Dhona. The only thing she can’t do is be the gatekeeper on account of her not being an Ishgardian.

That and she’s bite sized for all but the smallest members of the horde. Not that anyone’s _said_ that but we’re all thinking it.

Honestly, if Haurchefant were to delay our asylum in Ishgard just to keep her around, I would not blame him in the slightest. She is a mighty thing, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

Alphinaud, however…. Well, they don’t have much use for a scholar, barely into adulthood, with no trade skills here. So far, his most notable contribution seems to have been re-organizing the library. I didn’t even know they _had_ a library. I still haven’t found it yet. Haurchefant tried to give me directions but I ended up on top of one of the battlements somehow and promptly gave up.

Since the return of his possessions, Alphinaud has done nothing but shut himself inside the Falling Snows or the library and neither of us can get him to utter a word as to why. Then at breakfast three days later, he asks me if I can bring him my jewelry. For academic purposes, he adds, when I stare at him. I am so confused and curious that I agree at once.

…I didn’t even know he was in school.

I tell him as much when I arrive in the Falling Snows some time later with my small lockbox of jewelry and accessories. Alphinaud scoffs at my shock and reminds me rather primly that he was a student of the Studium, after all, and just because he and his sister elected to come to Eorzea didn’t mean he needs to abandon years’ worth of work. And now, seeing as he had little else to do, he may as well be productive in his studies. I can appreciate that. Not that I have a bloody clue what the Studium is.

To save my ears, I decide to keep my mouth shut and simply nod like I know all about Sharlayan academics, opening my jewelry box and setting it on the table in front of him. He has a pristine brown grimoire open, along with a quill and ink, and a few other books. His research, I suppose, but what sort? I know he is a practitioner of the arcane arts. I was sure my eyes were going the first time they laid eyes on the little red bugger romping around the Rising Stones. I certainly had not expected to see it bound straight to Alphinaud. That had led to more than a few interesting conversations about his childhood, Sharlayan, and arcanism in general.

Alphinaud pulls my box towards him and begins rifling through the contents, picking up pieces and peering at them for a moment before setting them aside. This goes on for a few moments of silence before curiosity wins out.

“Alright, out with it. What’s going on?” I ask. “Why do you need my jewelry?”

“I’m looking to see if you have any gemstones which could be useful to me. I was in the middle of a study of the aetherial energies present in the gemstones used for summoning carbuncles. I took care to keep mine own stores well-hidden and it would seem I did an excellent job” Alphinaud frowns for a moment then shakes his head. “Sneaking into Revenant’s Toll just for a sack full of gems is hardly worth it, wouldn’t you agree?”

I smile. “I’d do it if you asked me to.”

He blinks in surprise then rolls his eyes. “Which is exactly why I will not.” He shifts through a few more pieces before finally sighing. “Nothing. Nothing useful, at any rate.”

“Really?” I pull my box towards me and pick through it. “You sure? Look, we’ve got…this is a ruby, an emerald, sapphire, malachite, topaz, aquamarine…”

Alphinaud shakes his head. “I have either completed my notes for them or they have yet to successfully produce a carbuncle.”

“What, really?”

He nods. “Like malachite, for example. There are a small but respected group of scholars who research such things but carbuncle experimentation is no small task. One must either come up with a suitable glyph while following the pre-determined patterns to indicate the intention of the summon, defense or offense mainly, and then find gem which reacts with it and adjust the glyph accordingly.” He explains, ticking the criteria off on his fingers. “Or vice versa, starting with a gem and creating a suitable glyph. Each comes with its own myriad of challenges, of course. In my studies, I’ve found that the most common problem researchers face when attempting to create a new carbuncle, apart from limited access to the necessary stones, is finding the exact range of power a stone will react to. Take ruby, for instance. You cannot summon a Talc Carbuncle with the same glyph as a Ruby Carbuncle even though they are both intended for close-quarters combat. Talc is as weak aetherially as it is physically and cannot meet the demands of the Ruby glyph. Similarly, the Talc glyph is too weak to rouse the Ruby.”

I frown, mulling over this information. Like many things, arcanism seemed to come naturally to me when I began learning, and I had progressed in my studies with little difficulty, but rising tensions within Eorzea had forced me to put them on hold for a time. However, I don’t doubt that Alphinaud’s knowledge in the field could make me seem a novice in comparison. “So, Malachite Carbuncles don’t exist yet because no one has developed a glyph capable of forming one?”

Alphinaud smils, nodding once. “Exactly. My current project is a study of the aetherial energies within the stones which act as conduits between us and our summons. ‘Tis possible that there may yet be some information which could aid us in the subduing of primals.”

My jaw drops.

He rubs his hands along his cheeks for a moment then twists his lips thoughtfully. “I wonder if Lord Haurchefant keeps any precious stones here…”

“Perhaps if you give me a list of what you’ve already tried and what you’d like to, I could get word to a miner I know,” I offer. “I’m sure he’ll agree.”

“Even though we’re wanted for regicide?” Alphinaud asks with a wry quirk to his lips.

“Trust me when I say he doesn’t care.”

“Then I would be most grateful. I’ll get started on that list now.” He lifts one of his books and pulls an empty sheet of paper beneath it then picks up his quill. “Though I warn you, it will take some time to complete.”

I shrug and carefully flip through the pages of his research grimoire once more. There are a lot of notes written in his fine penmanship—which…is really weird considering that I’m seeing the words in my native alphabet but there was no way he had actually written in it—as well as a few hand-written charts and glyphs that I can’t make heads or tails of. But the amount of work he’d put into these pages is astounding, more than I ever would be able to.

“Hey, Alphinaud…have you considered using your magic to help out around here? There’s no shortage of work for me and with your help, things would be a lot simpler.”

I hear the quill stop moving but he does not respond for a long moment.

“I have never been much of a fighter,” he says and I nearly snort. “It’s Alisaie who…well. If I sought a book on the top shelf, she would shove a man twice her size off a ladder to get it for me, if she had to..” The mental image does bring a quiet snort out of me and I glance at Alphinaud to see him smiling wistfully. “She is my sister, my twin. Ere we came to Eorzea, I scarce spent more than a few bells away from her. I did not expect coming here to be what parted us but I suppose it was bound to happen at some point. Pray, forgive me, I digress.”

I shake my head. He has every right to pause for his sister’s sake. Alisaie is a force to be reckoned with in her own right and I know having her here could do wonders for his spirits. Yet I know, as I’m sure he does, that it’s best she remains a secret. Alphinaud is still juvenile and his face could be that of a male or female; were it not for a more feminine tilt to his sister’s features, I would be unable to tell them apart. Alisaie encountered alone could pass herself off as naught but another young elezen girl. With Alphinaud, however, their relation would be indisputable. For her sake, it is best she keeps as far from here as possible.

“As I said, I’ve never been much of a fighter. Give me a lance and I’m as likely to stab myself as a wall.”

I cock my head to the side. “Who needs a lance when you have that fancy grimoire of yours?”

Alphinaud glances at me and laughs once. “Quite, but I did not think using arcane magic…erm…wise considering Ishgardians do not. For all I know, the wrong person would see and I’d be accused of heresy.”

“Wait….” I furrow my brow. “You mean no one around here…?”

“Well, as a practitioner of the arcane arts yourself, would you not consider our carbuncles to be a core aspect of our art?” he asks and I nod without hesitation. “Have you ever seen a single carbuncle in all your time here?”

I have seen practitioners of both conjury and thaumaturgy amongst the Ishgardians, though the number doesn’t come close to the number of lancers and swordsmen, which surprised me until I considered the nature of their foe and recognized the most destructive aspect of thaumaturgy would be ineffective against them. Arcane magic, on the other hand, could prove quite effective. Yet he’s right. I have never seen so much as a grimoire apart from the few kept by the merchants. I myself had never purchased one, finding upon inspection that they were not worth the exorbitant amount of coin.

Over the course of the last millennium, much of Ishgard’s culture has made its way out into Eorzea but, in turn, the city had refused to allow the rest of Eorzea’s cultures in. Their forms of conjury and thaumaturgy could feasibly have been introduced before their war began and developed on their own but arcanism is relatively new to Eorzea. I don’t know why I assumed it had made its way into Ishgard when, after all, it barely has a hold outside La Noscea.

Have any of them ever even seen a carbuncle? Mayhap from a distance for any arcanist with a brain would keep their companion at the ready in a land such as this. But up close? Alphinaud is right. A people as scared and superstitious as these would likely panic first and ask questions after he lies dead at the bottom of Witchdrop.

Alphinaud, seeing my grimace, nods. “I would not cause Lord Haurchefant undo trouble by alarming the citizenry with unfamiliar magics.”

Well, there was a simple solution to that. Snapping his grimoire shut, I push myself to my feet. “Right then! You work on that list, I’m going to go introduce Haurchefant to a carbuncle.”

“I—I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” I reply. “You said you’re worried about being accused of heresy or something. Why not find out what Haurchefant thinks of it? If we’re lucky, maybe it’ll be alright.”

“Er…I’m not sure if we should hold that man as the Ishgardian standard…for anything,” Alphinaud says skeptically. “But if you wish then far be it from me to stop you. Just make sure you emphasize the difference between carbuncles and primals, please, and try not to get us thrown out.”

I would have to swear allegiance to Lady Iceheart before he would, I think. Gathering my jewelry, I shut the box and depart.

Haurchefant once told me that his people had stagnated long ago. So wary of letting the outside in, they shunned the natural exchanges of information that had allowed the rest of Eorzea to rise. Forced to rely only upon themselves to progress, they found such things impossible under the strain of an endless war, and only that which would further their efforts against the dragons was truly allowed to evolve. Even fashion struggled to progress. Knowing this, I have no doubt that attempting to introduce arcanism to Ishgard would be a long and arduous process which I have no desire to dedicate myself to. That’ll be a task for some other plucky, determined soul somewhere down the line.

But Camp Dragonhead is _not_ Ishgard and its leader is much more agreeable than most of the population.

I stop by my room to collect my grimoire and drop off my jewelry box then make for the main hall where he spends most of his time. I’m a little surprised to find the hall mostly empty. Tataru sits at the little desk in the corner she was given with a pile of paperwork larger than she is, feet swinging back and forth. She greets me brightly and informs me that Haurchefant is training recruits out near the pond. Well, there goes my hope of making an immediate introduction. But the training sessions could prove entertaining at least.

Gods above, I hope no one is lying face down in the pond when I get there. Holding one’s breath in ice water seems like the sort of ridiculous endurance training they’d think of around here. They already make them sit in the water in their smallclothes.

They are by the pond when I arrive but fortunately everyone is dressed. Seven recruits stand by the rocks near the water cheering on their comrade in arms, a young hyur who’s locked in combat with Haurchefant by the water’s edge. It’s nothing more than a simple spar to me though they are rather close to the water. Precariously close. One wrong move and either one or both could end up in the water. I suppose it’s an added incentive to be mindful of one’s surroundings but I’d hate that to me be me.

Perhaps I should leave them be but I’m curious and as long as I don’t prove to be a distraction, I don’t see a reason why I cannot watch.

It becomes evident almost immediately that Haurchefant is toying with the lad. No, perhaps toying is a bit unkind, but he is not giving it his all. Haurchefant is a master swordsman. He once told me that he had been training to fight since he was big enough to swing a stick. I’ve seen him in action, I know what it looks like when he fights with the intent to win, and I have little doubt that if were to start taking this seriously, the recruit would be flat on his arse in seconds.

His movements are fluid but restrained. He leaves openings for his opponent and though I know the lad sees them, his reflexes are too slow to take advantage of them. The best he can do is keep up, though I think that’s what Haurchefant wants. This continues for perhaps thirty more seconds, exhaustion beginning to overtake the recruit despite the cheers from his peers by the rocks. If this goes on much longer, he’s going to topple into the water.

Haurchefant must see it, too, because he takes a step back, holding his arm up. “Enough!” he declares, then straightens out of his fighting stance. The lad’s sword drops into the snow and doubles over, hands on his knees, panting. His fellows by the rocks do not seem discouraged, cheering for him with renewed vigor.

“Well done, Cal,” Haurchefant praises.

The young hyurian man glances up at him and smiles broadly. “Thank you, my lord!”

He must have known I was here already but Haurchefant's entire face lights up the moment he lays eyes on me. My insides decide to get all fluttery at that and I hope he doesn’t notice my cheeks heating. _Honestly,_ this man. Does the sight of me _really_ warrant such a reaction?

“Good morrow, my dear!”

All at once I feel sixteen hyper-curious eyes lock onto me. A few of the recruits grin and there's a bit of elbow nudging. Oh, _great_. I know what that means. Haurchefant doesn’t even notice.

“Good morrow,” I reply. “You weren’t at breakfast.”

“I had to take it early today, I’m afraid,” he explains, walking towards me. “Work to finish, you understand.”

I nod, glancing again at the recruits by the rocks, and, oh, wipe those shit-eating grins off your faces you little—

“Pay them no mind,” Haurchefant says with a chuckle, not taking his eyes off me. He stops a fulm from me and smiles. “They already have ideas in their heads, no matter what we do.”

“And should they?” I ask.

Haurchefant hums thoughtfully, lips twisting. “Perhaps.”

My stomach flutters again, but only a little, and I allow myself to wonder for a moment if…maybe…he is serious. If he’s always been serious. But, no, this is neither the time nor the place. Clearing my throat, I clasp my hands behind my back. “Well, I wanted to speak with you but you’re busy, so I guess I’ll just try again later.” I turn to go.

“Now, hold on,” Haurchefant says, amusement lacing his words. I pause. “Rarely am I too busy for you, my dear. What troubles you?”

“Nothing. Just a conversation I would like to have. It can wait.”

“Can it be had here?”

I glance at the recruits again. “No.”

“Oh?” he grins. 

“It involves me showing you something particular that I would rather they not see yet,” I explain and regret my wording the instant the grin spreads across Haurchefant’s face. I jab my finger at him. “No, don’t say a word. That came out wrong.”

He raises his hands. “As you wish. I do believe I can spare a quarter bell or so now, if that is ample time.”

I nod. “But only if it’s no trouble.”

He shakes his head. Turning to face the recruits, he cups his hands over his mouth and calls, “We shall adjourn for a quarter bell! Rest, re-hydrate, and meet back here after.”

“Ser!” they chorused.

Since the Intercessory is currently occupied and I don’t want to stir up any rumors by disappearing with Haurchefant into some private room, I lead him away from the camp towards the Steel Vigil. It’s safer around here after they swept through and massacred the remaining dragons hiding out in the ruins in the wake of Verdunaux’s exposure.

The snow crunches under our feet as we make for the road leading north, a familiar sound to my ears after so many consecutive days here. The air is cold but not biting for the wind is still and the sun shines brightly in the sky. A rare, beautiful day in Coerthas. It reminds me of the day he accompanied me on my tasks. I would love to spend another day like that with him. Here in his homeland or perhaps somewhere beyond. The idea of exploring Dravania with him returns again and I smile to myself. I will ask him, one day.

“So, what did you wish to talk to me about, my dear?” Haurchefant asks pleasantly. “To be honest, I would have thought you’d be well on your way to the levemets by now.”

Pulled from my thoughts, I smile at him. “Alphinaud needed my help with something he’s working on…which is actually what I came to talk to you about. You know he is…” I pause, trying to find the right word, and grimace. “ _Ill-suited_ for many tasks around here.” Haurchefant’s lips quirk upwards but he does not comment. “I believe there is a way he can be, as does he, but he has been wary of revealing it. And rightfully so.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Whatever for?”

I scoff. “Because all a bloke’s gotta do around here is sneeze wrong and he’s bloody chucked off a cliff!”

Haurchefant laughs once, likely at my choice of words more than anything else, and shakes his head. “It pains me to be unable to disagree with you. Nevertheless, I think I understand your meaning. Master Alphinaud has some manner of skill which may be misinterpreted by some.”

I nod. “You know what arcanism is?”

“I know of it, yes.” He nods at the grimoire on my hip. “Enough to know what that is. …Ah, I see. He is an arcanist.”

“More or less, aye, and he’s worried about how people would react. He does not want to cause any trouble for you by practicing unfamiliar magic and scaring folks.”

Haurchefant stops walking, crosses one arm over his chest and places his fist against his mouth, humming thoughtfully. I stop, too, and look over my shoulder at the walls of Dragonhead. We are some distance from the walls but the lookouts could still see us if they tried and if I start conjuring out here, they will definitely take notice.

“I appreciate his foresight,” Haurchefant says. “You adventurers are wont to do as you please but as guests here, he is correct in assuming his actions reflect on me and my House. I would like to give him permission to do as he pleases but unlike conjury and thaumaturgy, I have nowhere to base my knowledge. It would be irresponsible for me to allow him to wield unfamiliar magics without knowing the risks they pose to those around him.”

“And that’s why I’m here.” I reply.

“Beg pardon?”

I look around for something to conceal us from the walls and motion for him to follow me off the path into a copse of spruce trees nearby. He follows without question, curiosity staying his tongue for the moment.

I pull the grimoire from my hip and open it to a summoning page. “Do you trust me?”

He blinks, taken aback by the sudden shift, but nods. “Of course.”

Backing away several paces, I brandish my quill and begin tracing over the faint outline of the glyphs on the paper. As the glyph takes shake over the paper and in my mind, aetherial jewels and light swirl around me, the telltale sign of a summoning. Haurchefant cries out in surprise but I ignore him. I feel the aether flow from me, through my quill, to the glyph, and as it goes, I focus on my intentions for this summon, one of the most important parts of the process, and my desires are channeled into the forming entity. I finish the glyph, touch my hand to the glowing symbols, then fling it into the air in front of me.

My Emerald Carbuncle springs to life in a burst of light and lands on the snow. He bobs and twitches in place as all carbuncles do, black eyes dancing as surely as his tail, and he looks up at both of us curiously. When summoned for battle or other task-oriented reasons, carbuncles don’t pay much attention to anyone unless told. I found it disconcerting at first since other, more experienced arcanists around me seemed to have bonds with their carbuncles that rivaled the relationships between owners and pets, and I could scarcely get mine to look at me despite following my orders without question. Which was how I came to learn the importance of intentions when summoning. When summoned with the purpose of being an ally in battle, a carbuncle’s personality is subdued to the point of near nonexistence, but when summoned to simply exist, their individuality would shine brighter than they did.

My Emerald is a plucky little thing, bold as brass, and like most carbuncles, lacks any social graces. He only waits for me to return the grimoire to my hip because he knows better and then he springs at me. I catch him in my arms and laugh quietly as he chitters and screes.

Haurchefant looks on incredulously. It takes him a few moments more to find his voice and when he does, it’s breathless and amazed. “Is that…a carbuncle?”

“This is my Emerald,” I say, holding him out underneath his arms. His feet and tail dangle beneath him as he stretches forward to sniff this new person. Haurchefant, to my surprise, removes one of his gloves and extends that hand towards the tiny twitching nose. Emerald gives him a cursory sniff then nips at his fingers. Haurchefant draws back in alarm.

“Nah ah,” I scold, “no biting. We’ve talked about this. Forgive him. He has all the five senses and likes to use ‘em all on something new.”

Haurchefant raises his eyebrows and then laughs softly, reaching forward again. “Like an infant—oh.” His fingers brush along Emerald’s snout, stopping before the jewel atop his head. Emerald chitters. “He has fur.”

I nod.

“Seldom have I had the chance to behold a carbuncle with mine own eyes though I have long known of their existence.” His fingers slide down Emerald’s cheek and rub under his chin, earning another pleased chitter. “I think perhaps the closest I ever came was the day I joined you in Revenant’s Toll. I cannot claim to know much about these creatures but given their nature, I expected them to be lesser than a true living thing. I did not realize they would be so…”

“Alive?”

He nods and I smile. I think all who do not grow up around them share the same beliefs. I was among them, once. “When he exists, he’s as alive as you or me,” I say. “And he’s good for lots of things, not just fighting.”

Haurchefant scratches Emerald’s chin a moment longer them lifts his eyes to mine and smiles. “Thank you for showing him to me. But regarding the matter at hand, am I to assume Alphinaud’s fears lay herein?”

I nod. “Using arcane magic can be ignored or written off as something else, er…possibly, I guess. But the presence of a carbuncle can’t be.”

“And heretics are known to call upon Dravanian allies in times of danger,” Haurchefant added, almost to himself. “I understand. Perhaps something can be done for him but there is still the matter of mine ignorance on arcanism in general. If it would prove beneficial to my soldiers and the cause, however, I would be more than willing to set aside adequate time for yourself or Master Alphinaud to explain the broader points of it.”

“I’m sure between the two of us we could manage that,” I say. Alphinaud perhaps more than myself as I’m certain he could explain the finer workings of each and every spell at length. “This evening?”

Haurchefant smiles. “After supper, certainly. ‘Tis not every day one has the chance to learn something entirely new. Especially not around here. Thank you for introducing me to this little fellow.” He rubs Emerald under the chin with one finger. “He is simply adorable.”

Emerald makes a quiet, purring noise and lifts his head higher. Taking the hint, Haurchefant continues to run his finger up and down Emerlad’s throat rhythmically, with the care one would have when doing the same to a kitten. After a few moments, he shifts his hand, cupping Emerald’s cheek, and strokes his thumb gently across his face. I smile to myself. He’s so…gentle. You wouldn’t think so, just by looking at him; it’s one of those things you have to get to know him to see.

I wonder what it would feel like if he did that to me…

I startle out of my thoughts. “Great!” I cry, voice way too high to be casual. I give Emerald an affectionate rub behind the ears then dismiss him. He screes and Haurchefant draws back in surprise, watching as he disappears into a ball of light, which dissipates into tiny flecks, then into nothing at all. “I’ll go tell Alphinaud—”

“No, wait,” Haurchefant says quickly, reaching out to stop me. He retracts his hand before it makes contact, however, and takes a step towards me instead. “We still have a few minutes before we need return. Might we enjoy them together?”

I smile and reach for his hand, curling my fingers around his. “I’d love that.”

He inhales in surprise, almost a gasp but not quite, then squeezes my hand. I want to thread my fingers through his, to feel the skin of his hands against mine. They’re so much bigger than mine, but just as calloused from years of fighting.

“Even with you living here, I scarce get the chance to see you,” he muses.

“I’m no good to anyone sitting in the office with you,” I point out quietly.

“You need not be working every minute of the day,” he retorts. “As I have told you before, it is our honor to have you with us, and every day you spend under our protection is another day we repay our debt to you. I fear that if you keep this up, it may start to seem that we are taking advantage of you.”

I cock my hip head and smirk. “Oh yeah? As if you could.”

He laughs. “True.”

“I help because I want to, Haurchefant, not because I feel like I owe you. I help because, as a resident of Dragonhead, I want to contribute to its longevity. Just like Tataru does and Alphinaud wants to. Besides, either I keep myself busy or I wallow and waste away.”

Haurchefant’s smile is tight and I feel his thumb brush across the back of my hand. “Alright, my dear. So long as you are content.”

“Why do you call me that?” I ask without thinking and he freezes. Just like, the air between us turns tense with…something. Something that’s been brewing for a while that we both try to hide and ignore but it’s always there, at least to me. Mentally kicking myself, I lower my gaze to the leather straps which criss-cross his chest and hold his pauldrons in place. “I mean…you’ve called me that for almost as long as I can remember. Why?”

“You know why,” he murmurs.

I close my eyes. I do, I think, and it frightens me more than I care to admit.

“Is that alright?”

 _What a thing to ask_ , I think with a huff. He cannot help his feelings regardless of how _I_ feel about them. Or—no, that’s not what wants to know at all.

I lift my eyes to his. They are open, raw, yet hopeful.

I’ve always allowed him to call me as he pleases, allowed him to flirt and tease while lightly dismissing his more overt advances, but it could all end, here and now, if I wish it. He’s giving me an out, a way to turn him down without saying the words. To say no would be to break his heart. To say yes would be…I’m not sure. I don’t know where this could go, what future we could possibly have, a lord of a noble house and an adventurer. (An outsider wanted for murder, to boot.) I cannot stay any more than he can go. 

But I can't break his heart. I know that much.

Fear has begun to enter his gaze by the time I finally reply, simply, “Yes.”

His expression clears, eyes blinking rapidly for a moment, and a smile of elation spreads across his face. It softens into something…warm, and his eyes crinkle, and…

I smile, too, shaking my head, and lean into his torso. His arms encircle me, holding me close, and he makes a soft sound deep in his throat. The chainmail is cold and biting against my bare cheek, but I can feel the warmth of his body lingering beneath and I wrap my arms around him. He is solid, like the wood of his desk or the walls which protect his home, and strength acquired from years of training now holds me securely to him. This is the first time I've ever been this close to him, the first time I’ve ever hugged him. The thought causes my smile to return and I nuzzle my cheek against him. I want to hug him without armor on. He probably gives splendid hugs.

“We must go.” His voice is soft and full of regret, as unwilling to unbreak the moment as he is unable to ignore his duty. He squeezes me tightly against him for a moment, then pulls away, and I miss his body almost at once. He slides his hands along my arms to my hands and squeezes them tightly, then releases one and leads me towards the road with the other.

When we emerge from our little secluded copse, I tell myself it’s silly to want to pull him back inside. He has a job to do, people who are depending on him, and I cannot keep him from his responsibilities any more than he can keep me from mine. 

…That doesn’t stop me from wanting.

He lets go of my hand not long after, but the warmth lingers. 

We part ways near the gate. His pupils await him near the lake, watching every move we make as Haurchefant bids me goodbye. I enter camp alone and make for the Falling Snows, where I find Alphinaud just as I’d left him, scribbling on a piece of paper.

I tell him what happened…leaving out the part at the end, of course. 

“R-really?” Alphinaud’s eyes are wide, disbelieving. “He wants to…learn of the arcane arts?”

I nod. “Well, he doesn’t want to study them or anything. He just wants to know how they work so he can decide if we can use them here. And, y’know, between us, you’re far more suited for explaining this stuff.”

Alphinaud sets his quill aside. “Well…” he says slowly. “I suppose I could give him the gist of things, but—”

“If he agrees, then you could start helping with things around here. And you’ve gotta admit, it’d be nice to be able to have your Carbuncles out and about.”

Alphinaud blinks, considering this for a moment, then he smiles. “Very well. I suppose I could prepare a few summaries.”

“ _Brief_ summaries,” I correct with a warning look and he rolls his eyes.  
  
“Yes, yes, _brief_ summaries. I have no intention of boring the man. Oh, here.” He picks up a folded piece of piece of paper from the desk and holds it out to me. “My list. Tell your acquaintance that samples of raw ore and refined gems of each would be preferable but that I can make do with the ore for now. Go take care of this and I’ll work on the presentation.”

Knowing a dismissal when I hear one, I shrug and tuck the paper into my pocket. “Brief,” I warn again before leaving the room.

* * *

After dinner Haurchefant calls us both into the Falling Snows. Alphinaud carries his ornate grimoire and an air of confidence about him that has been sorely missing since Ul’Dah. When he sheds his coat, I see he is wearing the fine outfit that he arrived in, and I have to stifle a giggle. Was it common practice at his school for students to dress up for presentations? Knowing Sharlayans…it probably _was_. At least he’s taking this seriously.

Haurchefant takes a seat in the chair behind the desk which I am more used to seeing occupied by Aymeric and folds his hand on top of the desk primly, a cheerful smile on his face. I catch his eye and he winks.

Alphinaud clears his throat. “Rain, if you would, summon Emerald. We’ll start with carbuncles.”

I pull my grimoire from my hip, open to a summoning page, and begin tracing the familiar glyph once more. Beside me, Alphinaud mirrors my actions in his own grimoire. Our carbuncles spring to life within seconds of each other, both of them Emeralds, with nearly identical screes of delight at being remade once more. A grin of delight stretches across Haurchefant's face at the sight of them. Alphinaud beckons his onto the table and commands him to sit. I do the same and my carbuncle complies with an expression that almost seems disgruntled.

“Carbuncles are nothing more concentrated aether,” Alphinaud begins succinctly to the Lord sitting across the table in the high chair. “Their stone dictates their base combat strengths and weaknesses, as well as overall durability, though the strength of their summoner plays a large role in their actual effectiveness in combat. So, physically, everything about a Carbuncle depends on their type and their summoner’s aether, yet despite this, every Carbuncle is different. Just as every animal is different, or every person, no two Carbuncles are quite the same. Like all living things, each entity has its own personality which, when allowed to shine, is quite distinct.”

Haurchefant listens, completely enraptured by Alphinaud’s lecture. Our Emeralds sit side by side on the table, in front of their respective summoners, twitching and flicking their bodies like normal, but it’s quite clear to me that Alphinaud’s Emerald is much more restrained than mine. Though the little creature’s tail flicks back and forth, head tilting periodically, it seems almost still in comparison to mine.

“However, unlike, say, a young child, who will develop a personality independent of their parents, a Carbuncle’s personality is drawn from that of its summoner.”

I blink in surprise. That was new.

Haurchefant looks down at my Emerald and raises an eyebrow. “Really?” he asks with interest. “You know, he nipped at me earlier…”

Alphinaud chuckles. “Their personalities are drawn from their summoner, but they’re not identical. I am a…rather level-headed individual, if I do say so myself, and my Carbuncle reflects this by being calm and collected. Rain, on the other hand, is a bit more…shall we say, active. So, hers is more…”

“Rambunctious?” I supply helpfully. He nods.

“However, my other Carbuncles do not behave quite the same. My Amber is rather playful, actually.”

Haurchefant gives him a funny look, then turns to me once more. “And what of yours?”

“Well…” My eyes flick skyward as I think of the best way to summarize each of my other two Carbuncles. “Topaz loves to cuddle and Ruby likes to get into everything.”

He looks altogether far too interested at that. “A cuddler, you say?” I cock my head and smirk at him and he smirks right back at me.

“A common trait among Topaz and Ambers,” Alphinaud says, completely completely oblivious to what’s happening, bless him. “Their primary purpose in combat is to keep the enemy’s attacks focused on themselves. Seems logical that beings bound by their very nature to take a beating subsequently should enjoy softer comforts when able.”

Haurchefant and I exchange identical looks of amusement and smother our laughter. Alphinaud frowns, looking between us, and Haurchefant clears his throat quickly. “Ahem, yes, go on.”

Alphinaud’s eyes narrow in suspicion but he continues nevertheless. “When they’re summoned to battle, however, almost all of their personality is subdued, to the point where they seem no more autonomous than mammets. They are capable of acting independently and have a limited range of fighting capabilities, of course, but the will of the mage takes precedent. As such, you can be assured they will not go on a rampage or harm a bystander.”

Haurchefant nods. “That is good to know.”

“Which is why he’s being such a good boy right now and sitting still,” I add, patting my Emerald on the head.”

“Moving on from Carbuncles,” Alphinaud says, flicking his wrist, and his Emerald disappears into the aether with a quiet scree. My Emerald looks at the spot where the other had sat, then up at me beseechingly. I hold out my arms and he scampers into them. “Arcanists possess very few spells which are purely destructive or restorative. Actually, there is only _one_ purely restorative skill, aptly named _physick_. The attack spells, which are known as Ruin, are not as potent as a single Fire spell from a Thaumaturge, or even a Stone spell by a Conjurer.”

“Really?” Haurchefant asks, surprised. “Then how is it an effective form of combat magic?”

Alphinaud smiles. “Because the specialty of the arcane arts are curses. Though not the sort that superstitious smallfolk fear,” he adds quickly at Haurchefant’s look of alarm. “These spells are intended to inflict their target with temporary ailments which weaken them, leaving them susceptible to attacks.”

“Aaah, alright, I see. …Would such spells work on a dragon?”

“I should think so,” Alphinaud replies. “I would be more surprised if they didn’t. They, too, are in possession of aether, after all.”

Haurchefant nods slowly and we allow him a few moments to process all he has been told. “And if I were to ask you to demonstrate these spells on me…?”

My body starts in alarm and Emerald warbles at me in concern. “No!” I cry at once.

“I agree,” Alphinaud says with a wary expression. “It would be extremely unpleasant, even if all went well and you were not particularly susceptible to one of the spells. Without proper treatment, you could be feeling the effects of the curses for hours, even when they are no longer active.”

Haurchefant nods again. “I understand. In that case, if I am to permit this and support you should the need arise, then I need your word that you will not use any of these spells within the walls of the camp. I cannot risk harm to any of my people.”  
  
“You have my word,” Alphinaud responds. I nod once.

“In the event of an attack, you may feel free to employ whatever you must to defend yourselves, of course. I must also advise caution when in the presence of those loyal to the other High Houses, even those of House Haillenarte. Your Carbuncles, on the other hand…if they are as obedient as you claim, I see no reason why you cannot be permitted to summon them. They certainly are affectionate.” Haurchefant smiles at my Emerald.

“They have other uses as well,” I say. “In Limsa Lominsa, they use them to inspect cargo. They’re also good messengers, so long as they need not go very far, and can carry small parcels for you. And since they share a bond with their arcanist, they also make great sentries and scouts.”

“You say they can inspect cargo?” Haurchefant asks. “In what way?”

“To check for dangerous substances, mostly,” I reply, recalling my time in the guild. “And people. Y’know…in case people are being smuggled in or out…”

Haurchefant eyes my Emerald with new appreciation. “All of them can do this?”

“Well, they need to be trained for to be sniffers, but the other stuff they can just do.”

“Fascinating. And how far from you can they travel?”

“Depending on the strength of the arcanist, several hundred yalms,” Alphinaud answers. “Any further and the connection will be too weak for the Carbuncle to maintain its form.”

Haurchefant taps his chin thoughtfully and I can see him mulling something over with himself.

I press a kiss to Emerald’s forehead then release the aetherial bond between us. He coos quietly and disappears in a burst of light. I lower my arms to my sides and tilt my head to the side, waiting.

“Master Alphinaud, would I be correct in assuming you are capable of in following instructions, assessing, and paying close attention to detail?” the Commander of Dragonhead asks.

“O-of course,” Alphinaud replies, confused.

“Then I do believe I have a few tasks which you are suited to perform, with your Carbuncle, of course.”

* * *

“You know…it would be far simpler if I did this,” I murmur to Haurchefant as we watch Alphinaud summoning his carbuncle of choice in front of the eight recruits from yesterday. None of them have ever so much as seen an arcanist before, I’d wager, never mind a summoning. They may as well have been witnessing the Fury descend from on high from the way they’re gawping.

Haurchefant hums in agreement. “True, but you are not in want of a purpose right now. He is.”

Amber Carbuncle springs to life before them, twitching and flicking and ready for battle. The young recruits let out exclamations of awe and surprise. Alphinaud preens just a little then launches into an explanation of their soon-to-be opponent.

I smile and laugh once, softly. As far as training exercises go, this will be a good one, I am sure. A shame I cannot linger for it. I, too, have been given a task of import today. A shipment due to camp yesterday had failed to arrive, with no word on when and if we could expect it. Between heretics and common bandits, it was quite possible the wagon had been waylaid. It could be hours or days before news reached us and even longer until replacements arrived if worst had come to worst. Some of the cargo could be made due without but there had also been an important selection of herbs that the infirmary could not risk going without.

Fortunately, they have a master botanist around.

Unfortunately, much of my quarry can only be found in the south. I haven’t left Coerthas since our arrival and I have no idea how the rest of the realm is coping with the news that their Warrior of Light has been accused of murder. Even if the news isn’t widespread or widely believed, people talk. If I am recognized out there today, word will get around. If I’m lucky, this will work to our advantage and people will be confused about where exactly I am. If I’m unlucky, I’ll have to fight off a whole platoon of Wood Wailers or Yellowjackets with a hatchet or something.

Haurchefant is none too pleased about me leaving Coerthas but what can he do? His people are in need and I am best suited to help them. To stop me would be foolish, selfish even. They are at war, I am a warrior at heart, and the herbs are medicine. Of course I am going and of course he must let me.

“You will be careful?” Haurchefant asks softly.

“’Course,” I murmur. “I know how to make myself inconspicuous. I’ll have everything you need, and then some, and be home by supper just fine, you’ll see.”

Haurchefant doesn’t answer and I glance up at him after a moment, curious. He’s…smiling. A strange smile I’ve never seen him have before, almost wistful. Does he wish to come, too? That must be it. Closing his eyes, he touches my forearm briefly, then opens them and smiles once more. “Good hunting, then, my dear.”

I glance at the line of recruits and Alphinaud and I smirk. “Have fun babysitting.” He laughs out loud and the lot of them look in our direction. Grinning broadly, I step away from him and wink. Sensing Alphinaud’s judgmental glower, I give him a quick wave and hurry on my way.

It isn’t until a few minutes later, when I’m preparing to teleport with Bobby Corwen, that I realize I’d inadvertently called Camp Dragonhead home. The realization makes me freeze in my tracks. 

…I hadn’t meant it. Logically, he must have known I hadn’t mean it, which was why he’d seemed wistful. I don’t have a home. My quarters in the Toll may be _mine_ , but they’re not home. I haven’t had a home in a long time. And if I had to pick a place to make my home then it certainly would not be _Coerthas._

And yet…

If I had to…

I could see myself returning to Camp Dragonhead for many years to come for the man who commanded it.


	4. Apostates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fury had guided her to them as a blessing and no one would convince Haurchefant otherwise.

The Warrior of Light strode into the main hall just before lunchtime, rosy-cheeked from the cold but positively radiating pride. Haurchefant set his quill in its stand and folded his arms on his desk. “Now there’s a smile. Good hunting?”

“Oh yeah,” she replied, a little breathless from the cold. In the past few days she had been venturing south, at first for the chirurgeons to collect herbs they were sorely missing, and then because she had grown tired of her confines. “Medguistl asked me to help with supper today. I brought _loads_ of vegetables, meat…” She glanced around the room and raised her voice. “Beef stew for supper tonight, everyone!”

An appreciative murmur swept through the room and more than a few of its occupants perked up. Their meat stores had been pitifully low as of late, and those of Skyfire Locks and Whitebrim as well, from what he’d heard. If the rumors were true though, the knights of Durendaire were eating well down at the Observatorium. Something about requiring a steady source of protein to accurately observe the heavens or some such rubbish that Haurchefant was almost certain was _exactly that._ In any case, meat was in short supply and with winter almost upon them, it was quite disheartening for everyone.

“Did you say beef?!” cried one of the recruits in the corner, frozen mid-squat. Ser Broulent, who normally was quite a harsh taskmaster, was too busy staring at Rain in awe to even reprimand him.

“An entire buffalo.”

“I love you!”

Rain grinned and blew the lad a kiss.

Haurchefant snorted and shook his head fondly. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“It’s amazing what getting out of Coerthas for a few hours a day can do for a person.” She pulled one of the chairs up to his desk and sat down, pulling her satchel over her shoulder and setting it on the ground. “You should try it sometime.”

“Do not tempt me. Though I do wish you had told me you were leaving.”

She made a face, her fingers pausing on the buttons of her glacial coat. After nearly three weeks in Coerthas, she was finally dressing appropriately for the weather, thank the Fury. Haurchefant took it as a sign that she had finally begun to relax in their presence enough that she no longer felt the need to be in her battle armor at all times.

“Sorry. I’m not used to needing to.”

“Only so I would have known where you were, just in case,” he added, hoping he hadn’t offended her.

“No, no, I know, I really just didn’t think to.” Rain peeled her coat off her shoulders, revealing her botany gear, and draped it over the back of the chair. “I’ll try to remember for the future. Which reminds me, how is the matter of our asylum going?”

Haurchefant sighed and set his quill down. “It has not yet begun, I am afraid. I am terribly sorry. Three weeks since Vishap attacked and the city is only just getting back on its feet, but I do not anticipate you needing to remain much longer. Ser Aymeric has promised to send word the moment he deems the political climate stable enough for me to broach the subject with my father. But never you fear, you are as safe here as you have ever been.”

She smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Haurchefant.”

“No, thank you.”

“So, is there anything that needs doing this afternoon?” she asked.

Haurchefant considered her as well as the list of tasks he knew needed completed today. Most of them had already been assigned to others. What remained would be of little interest to her. “I do not believe so.”

Rain eyed the pile of paperwork on his desk which was admittedly impressive even by his standards. “Do _you_ need help?”

“Immensely,” he replied, “but I’m afraid, my dear, your Eorzean letters are…”

“So illegible that I may as well be holding the pen with my toes?” she deadpanned. Someone snickered.

Haurchefant glanced in their direction before protesting, “I wasn’t going to say _that_!”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m rubbish and I know it. C’mon—” she propped her arms on his desk “—you’ve got to have _something_ for me to do. I’ve cleaned both the levemetes out and the old sod down at the Observatorium says House Durendaire still, miraculously, doesn’t need the help of adventurers. Which is rich considering the Durendaire folks over at Whitebrim would love my help. Shame it’s for moving heavy stuff in the Stone Vigil.”

The corners of his lips twitched upwards and Haurchefant struggled to suppress the smile threatening to form. “Are you bored?”

“Immensely.”

“Well, as much as I would love to drop everything and go on some manner of adventure with you…” He glanced towards the workspace in the corner and raised his voice. “I do believe Corentiaux would have my head if I attempted to run off and leave him with all this work.”

“That is correct, my lord,” Corentiaux deadpanned from the other side of the screen.

Haurchefant gestured to him and shrugged. “You heard the man.”

Rain squinted in Corentiaux’s direction. “Oi, what exactly are you doing right now?”

“Reviewing and modifying training reports for our recruits before their upcoming assessments.”

“Never mind.”

Haurchefant chuckled quietly. “Perhaps you could take the afternoon off? You’ve been keeping yourself thoroughly occupied since you arrived, it may do you some good to simply relax for a day.”

“It’d do you _all_ some good,” she muttered but she looked thoughtful now. There were some who considered adventuring to be somewhat of a lazy profession due to their refusal to put down roots and provide a stable contribution to their community but Haurchefant knew better. Theirs was a hard life, hers perhaps more than most, and he wondered how often she simply took days for herself.

“Do you know where Alphinaud is?”

“Probably in the library,” Haurchefant answered. The lad practically locked himself in there most days, which was just as well considering they didn’t have much use for him. He was a learned lordling with no combat or trade skills who could barely transport firewood, according to what Haurchefant had been told. He had a few odd jobs around camp now, from helping with training exercises with his carbuncle to working in the infirmary. When he wasn’t working, there really was no better place for him then amongst the small collection of tomes and texts kept at Dragonhead. “I hear he’s reorganized it,” he added.

Rain shrugged. “Yeah, I heard, too. I’d love to have a look around it myself, but I can’t find it. Ended up in a watchtower last time I tried.”

“You could have asked for help.”

She shrugged.  
  
He sighed, shaking his head, then offered her the directions once more. She sat there for a moment, weighing her options, then thanked him, grabbed her coat, and departed with a spring in her step. Huh. He’d never taken her as a fan of literature. He couldn’t recall if her language abilities extended to written word as well…perhaps he should have warned her that at least half of those books were written in Ishgardian. Oh, well, she would learn soon enough, he supposed.

The minutes dragged on after her departure. With the end of the month looming, there were plenty of reports to fill out for the Temple Knights, Holy See, and House Fortemps. Everything from recruit progress to Dravanian activity to the number of adventurers who had been officially employed by the camp, and more. There were missives to draft, and, of course, the requests for supplies had to be submitted. Miss Tataru, Halone bless her soul, was taking care of the last one. Actually, would be more fitting to say that she had taken _over_ that one. In the last fortnight, she had begun keeping various tallies and organizing reports made by other camp residents to into detailed records of the camp’s supplies and finances, creating weekly lists of what needed replenished and by how much.

The Fury had guided her to them as a blessing and no one would convince Haurchefant otherwise.

The doors open and Haurchefant glanced up at the newcomers. A pair adventurer from the looks of them, though not ones he recognized. A hyurian man and woman, she of fair skin and he of dark, each dressed in sturdy gear lacking the uniformity that would have bespoken of allegiance to an organization. A swordswoman and a lancer, not a bad pair. Nothing about either of them stood out particularly but they would likely be able to hold their own in a fight…so long as they gave the dragons a wide berth. Toll residents, probably, come to fill the void left in Rain’s untimely departure. Prior to being a fugitive, she had become the go-to adventurer for needs pertaining to Coerthas among the residents of the Toll. The need hadn’t disappeared, only the fulfiller.

“Good day to you,” Haurchefant greeted in Common as they rounded the table. “Welcome to Camp Dragonhead. Feel free to warm yourselves by our hearth.” He gestured at the fireplace. The woman gave it a considering look before her eyes flicked to the recruits doing pushups near it. Haurchefant very nearly smirked.

“Good day,” the man replied and Haurchefant was immediately on guard. That was an Ul’Dahn accent.

 _Easy,_ he told himself. An accent was hardly damning. It wasn’t this man’s fault that they had cause to be suspicious of any visitors from the desert.

“We come to request access to your aetheryte,” the man declared and then bowed politely as an afterthought.

Haurchefant stowed his quill and folded his hands on his desk. “I see. Then you are aware that the Holy See of Ishgard has imposed heavy restrictions on who can and cannot attune to the aetherytes located within our borders?”  
  
“We have heard something to that effect,” the woman agreed. A Lominsan. An ordinary pair of adventurers then? …Or Crystal Braves in disguise? “Of course, I was under the impression that this encampment was meant to be a haven for travelers.”

Haurchefant dipped his head once. “Camp Dragonhead has been a refuge for travelers and point of political reception since its founding some several centuries past. However, given that we have been forced to take on the duties and fortifications of a military base as well, it is for the safety and security of those within our walls and the lands we protect that access to our aetheryte is now strictly regulted.”

Rain had not even been allowed to attune, not at first, but after she had helped him save Francel, Haurchefant had given her leave to do so as a token of his appreciation and gratitude. Fortunately, he had not been required to justify his decision to anyone of import, even though the entire camp knew Rain could come and go as she pleased. Alphinaud had not received the same courtesy until seeking shelter here, along with Tataru.  

“I am afraid attuning is no simple matter. Few of our own citizens have such access,” he went on, “and even fewer foreigners. I will be happy to begin the approval process for you but know that you will require documentation validifying your identities and your claims from an official source recognized by the Holy See. In short, unless you are emissaries for the Sultana or something to that effect, I am afraid you will only be wasting your time.”

He knew just from their faces that they did not have an adequate reason and that they knew it, too.

“Begging your pardon, Ser.” The man bowed awkwardly. “It’s clear that we already have, and yours.”

Haurchefant held up his hand. “Please, think nothing of it, and you have my thanks for not simply strolling up to the aetheryte first. Though I am sorry I cannot grant you the access you seek, if you have business here in these lands, you have my permission to range, so long as you adhere to our rules and acknowledge the fact that dragons do not distinguish Ishgardian from Eorzean.”

“That sounds reasonable,” the woman replied.

He nodded. “Though if you wouldn’t mind, I would know the reason for your visit nonetheless, and from whence you came.”

“Oh, forgive me.” The man bowed. “I am Hammond, and this is my partner Mattie. We are adventurers based in Revenant’s Toll. We came to hunt and to inquire for work.”

“Ah, well, as I said, you have my leave to range around Dragonhead. As for work here at camp, you are not the first who has come to me today to request something.” He smiled wryly. “But unless you wish to make the days of a squire or two simpler, I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you. Lady Yaelle, if you would, please?”

Yaelle emerged from behind the divider where she had been helping Corentiaux with his work. “My lord?”

“See to it that these two adventurers are briefed on our rules and that they are registered with the chocobo porter.”

 “Of course.” She smiled at the adventurers. “Come with me. We shall talk by the fire.”

She led them away and a few minutes later, out of the main hall as well.

A squire came to announce lunch not long after. Corentiaux set aside his work and fled the hall like he expected to be stopped. Broulent dismissed the recruits from their exercises with stiff but sincere praise of their efforts. The others who had trickled in departed as well and Haurchefant was alone with his work. No time for lunch for him today if he wanted to finish this bloody paperwork before his scheduled training session with Francel later that afternoon. He loved his childhood dearly, but the boy _could not fight_ to save his life, nor was he a quick study of the art of combat. Count de Haillenarte was hoping Haurchefant would help things along and, well, he certainly wasn’t going to pass on the chance to spend time with his oldest friend.

( _Play with his oldest friend_ , the more childish part of him thought gleefully.)

An empty stomach was worth it.

Resigned as he was to his fate, Haurchefant certainly was not expecting Rain to arrive bearing a tray of food not a quarter bell later. She was wearing that warm black robe he had helped her earn all those weeks ago. It must be a pain to fight in such clothing, but at least she would not suffer the cold. It really was nice to see her dressing for comfort rather than combat.

Did she mean to eat in here to keep him company? What a kind ge—wait. Two bowls, two plates, two mugs…oh.

“I brought lunch,” she announced cheerfully. “Though I’m not quite certain as to what lunch is.”

He smiled fondly. “Ah, my dear, you did not have to.”

“Have you noticed that we do a lot of things for each other that we don’t have to? ‘Cos I have.” Rain set the tray on the table in the center of room, dragged another chair over, sat down, and patted the empty one next to it.

Well, how could he refuse her? He couldn’t. He stowed his quill once more, straightened the papers on his desk, then pushed his chair back.

“So why were you skippin’ lunch?” she asked.

“I have so much work to complete,” he told her as he rounded his desk. “And a training session in two bells with Lord Francel that I cannot miss.”

“Well, then, hurry up and eat!” she cried.

Haurchefant laughed, sat down, and examined the meal he’d been brought. Ah, eft tail broth, Ishgardian bread, and cider, he guessed. Not Medguistl’s finest work but he knew dinner would more than make up for it. He took the bowl closest to him from the tray and one of the spoons. He spooned some of the broth by itself into his mouth and his lips twitched upward. She’d seasoned the broth. This was why he appointed her to head chef…and why he’d be sorry to see her go if she ever tired of camp life and marched herself to the Eorzean culinarian’s guild where she belonged. 

Rain stirred the spoon through the soup a few times before scooping a small piece of meat into her mouth, chewing carefully. A curious expression flitted across her face and she scrunched up her nose.

Haurchefant smiled, cocking his head. “Eft broth,” he explained. “Seasoned with some local herbs. Common fare when the food stocks are low.”  

She lowered the spoon back into the bowl. “Low?”

He sighed. “I am sorry to say that there’s been a bit of a shortage of meat lately. And, well, our farmlands aren’t what they used to be. Even with all the funds my House puts towards feeding us here, it’s impossible for Medguistl to keep her stores well stocked all the time.”

Rain stared at him for a long moment and he could see the gears turning behind her eyes. He ate more soup and waited. He had a hunch that he knew where this was going. “Right,” she finally said. “That’s that. I’ll be going back to La Noscea tomorrow, possibly the Black Shroud as well. Can I borrow Foleux? Bobby isn’t big enough to carry as much as I’m gonna bring back.”

Smiling to himself, Haurchefant tore off a piece of bread, dipping it in the broth.

She gave him a strange look. “You’re not even going to try and stop me?”

“Should I even bother?” he asked and popped the piece of bread into his mouth.

“…’s just weird that you’re not even trying…” she mumbled and lifted her spoon to her mouth once more.

“Well, perhaps you could say that I have rather learned my lesson.” He tore off another piece, dipped it in the broth, and ate it. “Better to simply go around the mountain than attempt to move it.”

“Are you sayin’ I’m stubborn?”

Haurchefant arched an eyebrow. “You fight primals.”

“Good point.”

He dipped another piece of bread in the soup and chuckled when she copied him, and again at her quiet noise of approval.

“Consider Foleux yours for the day,” Haurchefant told her. “Speak with Mistress Tataru later this evening, she ought to have the inventory tallies completed before supper. She can tell you what we sorely need.”

Rain slurped down a spoonful of broth, brow scrunched in thought. “You said meat’s been low, yeah? Ever had antelope?”

Haurchefant had to think about it but couldn’t recall the last time he’d had venison. Not since the Calamity. The antelope which roamed to the south fled to the Black Shroud and, well, the Gridanians refuse to kill enough for meat to be exported. Eeft, wolf, chinchilla, mutton, fish, and various types of fowl are pretty much all that are available to us. The beef you provided will fill as many hearts as it does bellies.” He smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” she replied. “I think I’ll bring back antelope tomorrow and…oh, how do you feel about crab?”

“Crab?” Haurhefant repeated, cocking his head. “You speak of the…many-legged creature which lives on the coasts? With a shell, correct?”

She stared at him blankly. “You’ve never seen a crab.” It wasn’t a question. “Of course, you’re about as far from the sea as you can get in Eorzea. I’m bringing crab, too. Just you wait.”

“I shall, eagerly, though I fear you are going to spoil us.”

“Good.”

Haurchefant laughed but sobered after only a few moments. “Just be cautious. I cannot help you if you are apprehended beyond our borders.”

“I know, don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You know I can take care of myself.”

“I do not doubt your survival skills,” he assured her, “however I am also keenly aware of the circumstances which lead you to us. And the condition in which you arrived.”  
  
Rain scowled and set her spoon down. “Things would’ve gone a lot differently if I’d been armed. I _usually_ am. I am right now.” Haurchefant raised his eyebrows and he craned his neck to see her belt, but he saw nothing which could be considered a weapon. Lifting her arm, she pulled her sleeve down to reveal a leather bracer with a sheathe containing a knife. She lowered her arm and shook her sleeve back down, saying, “But I was made to turn over all my weapons before entering the Sultana’s chambers. If I’d fought back when that little _bastard_ ordered me bound, I would’ve only looked guilty. If I’d fought back once they started manhandling me, they would’ve done worse.” Tearing off a piece of bread, she jabbed it into her broth and took an angry bite. “By the time I was actually in a position to fight, everything had gone to shit, and everyone was sacrificing life and limb to get me out,” she finished bitterly and took another bite.

Haurchefant wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. He started to reach for her hand then thought better of it and retreated…. _Sod it._ He placed his hand on top of hers gently. She glanced at it, then him. “I am truly sorry,” he murmured. “For all that’s happened. I want nothing more than for you to be safe. I will not stop you from leaving, nor will I refuse your generous offers of aid for my people but were the cost to be your own life or safety, I would never be able to forgive myself for allowing harm to come to you when you were meant to be under _my_ protection.”

She sighed. “I understand…and I swear to you, even if all the surviving Braves find me, I will cut each and every one of them down before I let them capture me.”

And she would, he knew she would. He had heard tell of the way she charged along the Steps of Faith with a small company of adventurers at her back and not a hint of fear. What could the Crystal Braves hope to do when faced with such an opponent? He wondered if even the might of the Garlean Empire would survive her wrath, in the end. If he did not fear for every time she went off to battle, he might allow himself to consider how a fight between her and the great wyrm himself may unfold.

“But, should anything happen, I also swear I’ll prioritize escape over anything else.”

Haurchefant smiled. “I suppose I can ask for nothing more. Very well, then. Now hurry, finish your lunch before it goes cold.”

The rest of the meal progressed without broaching any serious topics. She told him about crabs in between bites of bread and soup, how they walked, what they looked like, where they lived on Vylbrand. Of specimens small enough to fit in her palm to those big enough to skewer a Midlander with one of their legs, and even of one which was too large to fit in this very room, whose talons could crush whole boulders into rubble. Cancer, she called him with equal fear and disgust, and he had been marked as a Rank S target by the Grand Companies. He asked her if she’d participated in the kill. She paused for a moment, her eyes staring straight ahead but seeing events long past, then shuddered.

They finished their bread and soup around the same time, then turned to the mugs of cider which had cooled to a drinkable temperature. The taste of warm apples exploded across his tongue, with just a hint of cinnamon, and Haurchefant smiled.

“I collected the apples for this the other day,” Rain told him matter-of-factly before taking a sip.

“Truly, my dear, you are a blessing from Halone herself,” Haurchefant teased. “Were it not infinitely safer for you within the city under the official protection of my House, I might insist you remain here instead.”

Rain lowered her mug, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t think I’d mind that.”

Something fluttered inside him and Haurchefant stared at her. Truly? She wanted to stay? Here? …With him?

“B-but I think Alphinaud and Tataru would be much happier in the city,” she went on quickly, averting her eyes. “And there are more sources of information…and it’s safer…yeah. We have to go.”

“Of course,” he agreed softly. Of course. “But, Rain—”

The doors creaked open and they both jumped in their seats, glancing guiltily at each other like they’d been caught out. Rain hid her face in her mug and Haurchefant turned his attention to the door. Yaelle smiled pleasantly at them both after closing the door behind her. She informed him that the adventurers had been sent on their way in the direction of the Observatorium roughly a quarter bell ago and made for the desk where she had been working before, and that was the end of their privacy.

Haurchefant sighed and rose to his feet. There was a conversation they sorely needed to have but such things were best done alone. “I suppose I should return to work as well if I am to finish on time.”

“Are you sure I can’t help?” Rain asked. The doors opened again, this time revealing Corentiaux who looked like he’d rather be anywhere than here.

Haurchefant shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, but thank you for the offer.” He lowered his voice. “And thank you for sharing the meal with me.”

She winked and took another sip of her cider.

He took his mug back to his desk to sip on as he worked and set it well away from the stacks of paper. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the document he’d been working on before and exhaled softly. _Now, where was I_?

No sooner had he picked up his quill when the doors opened once more and Omberlain, the young squire in service to Ser Tenebres, stumbled in and shoved the door shut. “M-my lord!” he whispered loudly, panicked. “At the gate—there—these three men demanding an audience— _in blue!_ They’re coming, my lord!”

Silence.

The fire crackled.

Haurchefant and Rain exchanged horrified looks.

She leaped out of her chair and whirled around, seeking a place to hide, but the room was big and open, there was nowhere she could without being seen from the door except—

“Back here, quick!” Haurchefant hissed, shoving his chair back. She vaulted over his desk and only his quick reflexes saved the stack of documents and the inkpot from going everywhere She ducked under his desk and crawled as far back as she could.  “Omberlain, locate Tataru and Alphinaud at once!” he ordered. “Get them indoors if they are not and tell them they are to hide until told otherwise. Send Ser Tenebres here after!”

Omberlain nodded frantically.

“And for Fury’s sake _calm yourself_!” Corentiaux barked. “Or you’re likely to give us all away!”

 “Yes! At once!” The squire turned, cracked the door open, and peeked outside. A few moments later, he slipped out.

Haurchefant straightened the papers on his desk quickly then scooted his chair back up to the desk.

 _“Keep your sword away!”_ Corentiaux hissed, followed by the chink of a sword hilt hitting metal. Yaelle, no doubt ready to make good on her angry grumblings from the last few weeks.

“Easy,” Haurchefant urged, then noticed their lunch tray on the table. “Yaelle, the tray—”

But before he could get any more out, the doors opened again. He snatched his quill a split second before three men entered the room. Two hyur and a lalafell, their uniforms, pristine and blue, declaring them to be exactly who the squire had assumed they were: Crystal Braves. Haurchefant was sure he had seen the lalafell before though he could not say the same of the other two. Apart from the fact that one was a highlander and the other a Midlander, there was nothing significant about either of them. They strolled into the hall with the confidence (arrogance) of men who believed they were in complete control of the situation. It may as well have been the Rising Stones.

The thought irked Haurchefant more than he cared to admit. Good. Annoyance, offense, those were good emotions for this. Far superior to the righteous fury and indignation bubbling below the surface, which would only cause trouble, as well as the desire to _protect_.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted in Ishgardian. Not so much as a hint of understanding on their faces. He switched to Eorzean common. “What can I do for you?”

“Lord Haurchefant, is it not?” the highlander asked. They stopped in front of his desk with the highlander at the front and the other two flanking him at his shoulders…which would have been more impressive if one of them didn’t only come up to his waist, including the hat. “I am Darius Underwood of the Crystal Braves. I took part in the campaign against Lady Iceheart, as did Yuyuhase here.” He gestured to the lalafell who smiled at Haurchefant in a way that was not at all pleasant.

“And we thank you for your assistance,” Haurchefant replied. “What brings you to Camp Dragonhead?”

 “Searching for wanted fugitives.”

The door to the main hall opened and Ser Tenebres entered. He took in the scene before him with narrowed eyes. Haurchefant nodded to him once then returned his attention to their uninvited guests.

“Fugitives?” he repeated. “Interesting. What manner of fugitives?”

Darius smiled. “Assassins. A figure of significant political import was recently murdered by the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

Haurchefant frowned. “You are mistaken, surely. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn strive to protect the realm of Eorzea from threats. That they would turn on one of her leaders’ strains credulity at best.”

“Forgive me, my lord, but it matters not what you believe. They _are_ guilty, and we are charged with bringing them to justice.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that so? Well, Darius Underwood, you will find that what I believe holds great import in these lands. And I was under the impression that your organization was a branch of the Scions. Or at the very least an affiliate.”

“We were, aye, but no longer.”

Haurchefant hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I am afraid you came all this way for nothing.”

Anger flashed across Darius’s face.

“My lord,” interjected the lalafell, Yuyuhase. “Might I inquire as to how you knew that it was one of Eorzea’s leaders who was murdered?”

Haurchefant swore internally but outwardly he merely raised his eyebrows. “Ser Aymeric was in attendance at this banquet. Does it truly surprise you that information of what occurred there has reached us?” Haurchefant shook his head. “Nevertheless, you will find that the people of the Highlands hold the Scions in rather high regard.”

“High enough that you would refuse to assist in their capture?” the Yuyuhase asked. “They are _enemies_ of Eorzea.”

“And Ishgard is not part of Eorzea. Not yet.” Haurchefant reminded him sharply. “Your problems are not ours—”

“But yours were ours not long ago, were they not?” Darius retorted.

Haurchefant shrugged. “A choice you made, just as I am making a choice now. Until such a time as I am provided with indisputable evidence of their crimes, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn will remain in the highest regard to House Fortemps. I will not help you.”

Darius took a step towards the desk. From the corner of his eye, Haurchefant saw Yaelle reach for her sword. “’Tis a long walk from Ul’Dah to Coerthas but if there is any who could make the trip, it would her, don’t you think?” the Brave asked.

Haurchefant said nothing.

“Not to mention that the local levemete we spoke to indicated he had absolutely no work to offer. And adventurers who come here looking for work are being sent away empty-handed as well. Almost as if there is someone—” Darius cocked his head “—capable in the area with plenty of time at their disposal.”

He very nearly frowned. Those adventurers from before—had they been Braves after all? Or perhaps been paid off by them to seek information? If it were so, then the request to access the aetheryte had been merely a farce to get them close enough to Haurchefant to ascertain information.

“ _And_ not to mention that the quarters of several Scions have been stripped of most of their valuables,” Yuyuhase went on, “and the fact that the _Enterprise_ was recently spotted spiriting a chocobo away from Revenant’s Toll and heading in this direction.”

“No one would fault you for trying to protect your friend, Lord Haurchefant,” Darius said, his tone wheedling. “Were you turn her over to us, no one ever need know you were harboring fugitives. We wouldn’t want people to accuse Ishgard of secretly working against Eorzea.”

Haurchefant narrowed his eyes and rose to his feet, towering over each of the Braves. “Lest you forget, you are no longer on Eorzean soil. Have care with your words or they may be your last.”

Darius clicked his tongue. “I see.” He took one final step forward to the edge of the desk and all Haurchefant could think of was the few ilms of wood separating the mercenary from his target.

  
“I think it is time for you to leave,” the commander of Camp Dragonhead all but growled. “You are welcome here no longer.”

Darius’s expression was mildly amused but there was wariness in his eyes. “Very well, Lord Haurchefant. We will go, for now. But how long do you _really_ think you can hide her here? When word gets out—and believe me, it will get out—that you are harboring the sultana’s murderer…” He let the statement hang in the air for a poignant moment.

Haurchefant, not to be cowed, leaned forward. He knew, and he knew that Haurchefant knew that he knew, but he had no power within Dragonhead and he was woefully out numbered. And Haurchefant could not retaliate or, worse, prevent them from leaving without confirming their suspicions, for it was foolish to hope these three had come here without anyone’s knowledge. Darius knew they had to go without their prize and Haurchefant knew he had to let him…yet he also knew this was just the beginning. They would come for her now. Rain, Alphinaud, Tataru—none of them were safe here anymore. If he let these Braves go, more trouble was sure to follow.

It was a stalemate of the worst sort. But there was only one way he could break it.

“She is not here,” Haurchefant said. “And even if she were, my answer would remain the same. Tenebres, Corentiaux, Yaelle!”

“My lord!”

“Yes, my lord.”

Haurchefant he glared at the Brave before him. “See to it that these outsiders do not get lost on their way out of camp.”

“At once.” Tenebres saluted and stalked towards the Braves. The Midlander and lalafell looked at him, the latter with a look that was altogether too smug, but Darius’s eyes lingered on Haurchefant’s for a long moment. “Sir,” the knight warned, “step away from the commander or you will be moved by force.”

The highlander laughed once without humor and stepped away from the desk. “Very well. You need not trouble yourselves, I’m sure between the three of us, we can remember the way.”

“All the same, you will be escorted,” Haurchefant replied.

Darius opened his mouth to reply but Yaelle placed herself squarely between him and the desk. “Move,” she barked with no small amount of venom.

“Of course, madam,” he replied.

Haurchefant straightened as the three Braves were lead away. The lalafell looked over his shoulder and threw him a knowing smirk that made Haurchefant’s stomach sink. This had been nothing but a ploy to ascertain the truth from him and they had come in already knowing, or at the least nearly certain, that Rain and the others were here. All they’d needed to do was confirm it and, somehow, in his attempts to rebuke and rebuff them, he had managed to give it away anyway. He had failed…yet he wondered if there was any way he could have succeeded at all.

Corentiaux shut the door firmly behind him, cutting off all sound from the outside, and Haurchefant exhaled softly. The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire, then the tiniest rustle of clothing from beneath the desk. He stepped backwards and flopped down into his chair.

Rain peered at him from beneath the desk, eyes wide. Haurchefant sighed and rubbed his mouth. What had passed had passed and there was naught to be done about it. The clock was ticking. He held out his hands to her and pulled her from beneath to the desk, holding her steady as she got to her feet. She made no move to pull her hands away and Hauchefant rubbed his thumbs across the back of them

“I am afraid, my dear, that you will not be able to spoil us after all.”  
  
“Y-you mean…?”

He shook his head. “We cannot wait any longer. It is time you went to Ishgard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to several bits of NPC dialogue, the Crystal Braves actually never came to call, which is a damn shame. Such a damn shame, that I've elected to ignore it :D 
> 
> One such example is from Yaelle: "Full glad I am that your names have been cleared. I feared it only a matter of time before your accusers grew bold enough to send their minions here─though I cannot say I would not have welcomed the opportunity."  
> Yaelle was ready to throw down. BRAVES BETTER BE READY TO CATCH THESE HANDS.


	5. Axiom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is something which has been weighing on my mind for some time now that I must needs discuss with you. It concerns the Warrior of Light.”

_Axiom (noun): a self-evident truth that requires no proof; a universally accepted principle or rule._

* * *

 

Haurchefant had never been particularly close with his father. Indeed, for most of his life with the man, he had never been able to address him any less formally than _Pére_ , even when Emmanellain and Artoirel called him _Papa_. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault, per se, but a result of the life he had led and the circumstances which had brought him to live with his father. Moving to Dragonhead had been more of a relief for him than he would ever admit, in almost every regard. He could put up with the cold, the dangers, and the paperwork if it meant freedom from the pressures of his house, the judgements of the nobles, and the cruel whims of the countess.

Though he found Ishgard beautiful, returning to the manor was always such a chore. More often than not, he would forgo any formal dress and simply wear his armor, for he was a knight, first and foremost, and he did not belong among the frippery of the Pillars. Today was no exception. He would approach the Count not as his son on behalf of a dear friend, but as one of his commanders on behalf of a staunch ally. He wasn’t sure how his father would react to the former approach—though, really, Haurchefant’s mere _existence_ hardly gave the man room to judge—but it would be better in the long run if the Count’s decision was not influenced by such personal reasons. It was a dangerous move, publicly giving sanctuary to three individuals who were accused of regicide by a foreign entity whilst in the midst of alliance negotiations.

Whatever happened, he only prayed his father would not order them off House Fortemps’ lands. He didn’t know what he would do. The thought of having to cast Rain out was so abhorrent that he immediately shoved it away. He would stress their deeds and characters and along with their innocence and hope for the best.

Haurchefant paused in his work and rolled his shoulder to loosen the muscles in his arm. The day of paperwork had not been kind to his arm to begin with and the repetitive motions of polishing were certainly not helping things now. He had always preferred to polish his own armor rather that fob the task off on some poor squire or servant. He found accomplishment watching the armor slowly regain its shine. He glanced at the chronometer on the wall. Nearly a bell since he had sent word to the city. Hopefully, his father would take his urgency seriously and agree to see him tonight, otherwise he was wasting his time polishing his armor when he could be finishing the paperwork he’d left behind, or training with Francel as intended.

He was not looking forward to Rain’s imminent departure. They were growing steadily closer, moving together towards something which seemed inevitable now. There was still so much which was uncertain, but he cared for her, as he now knew she cared for him, which was more than he could have ever hoped for.

For most of his life people had been telling him that he was lesser, always doomed to be second-best or worse, for the mere fact that his parents had not been married when he was conceived, as if he were defective for it. The countess had once told him outright that Artoirel and Emmanellain would have their pick of the noble ladies in the Pillar and he would be lucky to pick from the Brume. That had been one of the rare occasions his father had rebuked her for Haurchefant’s sake…but the words had stuck, lodging themselves further and further within as the years passed. He would never find love, not a love he deserved, and no one would ever want him. With every passing adventurer he had successfully bedded, he felt some satisfaction that he had proven everyone wrong, if only a little.     

And now here he was, completely besotted with the Warrior of Light, only to learn that by some miracle, she cared for him, too. Him. _Him!_ One such as herself…wanted him.

The only reason he had yet to formally ask to court her was because it would be highly inappropriate. She had come to him for protection, after all, and to instigate a relationship with her while she was dependent on him was unkind at best. But soon, soon…

Someone knocked on his door.

“Enter!” Haurchefant called with a smile on his face. Whoever was on the other side hesitated. Not one of his soldiers, then. Haurchefant turned as the door opened, half-expecting to see Rain standing there, but it was Alphinaud.

“Master Alphinaud,” Haurchefant greeted, setting the cloth down and rising to his feet.

The young elezen cast a curious glance around Haurchefant’s chambers for a moment before clearing his throat and stepping inside. “Ser Haurchefant, I am told you are for Ishgard this evening to speak with the Count on the matter of our asylum.”

“Indeed, with luck. I should receive word shortly.”

Alphinaud nodded and cleared his throat again. Something like embarrassment flitted across his features for a moment he ducked his head. “I…wished to thank you once more for your kindness and support these last weeks. I fear I have hardly been myself since arriving, but I owe what happiness I have managed to your words of encouragement. Indeed, we owe you much.”

Haurchefant shook his head. “We have but repaid that which was already owed. If anything, you may now say we are finally even.”

The boy smiled. “Perhaps. I…pardon me, but there is something which has been weighing on my mind for some time now that I must needs discuss with you. It concerns the Warrior of Light.”

“Alright,” he agreed, uneasily, and sat back down. “Close the door, then.”

Alphinaud nodded and did as instructed, then turned to face him once more. “For all my skills in academia, politics, and diplomacy, I am yet naïve to much of the world. Once I was willfully blind to this fact but no more, and from here on out I will endeavor to not allow mine own arrogance and hubris cloud my judgement, lest the mistakes of the past repeat themselves. Eorzea needs the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and for my part in their downfall, I must work twice as hard to see them and their good name restored. Though these few weeks may be considered repaying a debt which was owed to the Warrior of Light, the Scions yet owe you much and more, for we would be lost without your generosity.”

Haurchefant dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“When we are on our feet once more, we shall repay that debt, I swear it, be it through arbitrary support or some other means at our disposal. However, in the end, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn must remain a neutral party.”

“Is this a rather roundabout way of saying that you no longer wish to utilize the Falling Snows as a headquarters,” Haurchefant asked, only partially in jest.

Alphinaud smiled tightly. “We may have need of it, one day, but no, that is not it. The only reason why the Scions were as effective as they were was complete political neutrality. Virtually none of our funding and resources came from the Eorzean city-states and, as such, the organization was able to work and move freely without interference. There were no debts owed and once the Scions relocated to Revenant’s Toll, no illusion of alignment to one city-state over another. For evidence of this, one need look no further than the Crystal Braves themselves, for I am almost _certain_ that it was the money received from the Syndicate which allowed some of its members to be influenced.”

Bitterness laced his words and Haurchefant felt a touch of sympathy for him. The whole thing had been ill-fated from the start in his opinion, yet he had only ever wished fortune on Alphinaud and his company. His heart had been in the right place and it was truly a shame that greed had destroyed what may have been a force of good for the realm. But alas.

“Which is why I must emphasize to you the importance of our neutrality,” Alphinaud continued, then his expression became cautious. “All of us. Even Rain. …Especially Rain.”

Haurchefant stared at the young man before him, who met his gaze with no small amount of apprehension, and he struggled to think of why. The necessity of neutrality was hardly surprising for a group such as theirs, and as the Warrior of Light, Rain needed to be free of any—

Oh.

Haurchefant sat up straighter in his chair but when he opened his mouth to protest, Alphinaud spoke instead.

“I am discreet, Lord Haurchefant, not blind,” the boy said shrewdly. “If it has happened in my presence, I have seen it. If it was hidden in words, I heard it—albeit belatedly, I admit. The whole camp knows you fancy her, but I know you genuinely care about her. Mayhap you even love her. I was content to leave it be but in recent days, it has become apparent that she truly feels the same for you. And therein lies the problem: you are a lord and knight of Ishgard. If she were with you, even for only a time, she would be inextricably linked with Ishgard for possibly the rest of her life. The other city-states will not take kindly to that. And what of Ishgard itself? You know your people better than I, but even I know that we are walking into a veritable coeurl den by merely being outsiders. To add a romantic relation with a Greystone on top of that will ruin what little chance she already had with many of the citizenry. If we are to rebuild, and to be successful in our mission, she _must_ be neutral.”

With that, he seemed to be finished.

Haurchefant wanted to object, protest, cry out in indignation, but words failed him. Alphinaud had not come with any criticisms that Haurchefant would have expected from him. That he was a flirt, not good enough for her, and so on. Things Haurchefant knew well and could argue. He’d come with the truth, as cold and ugly as it was, and Haurchefant could do little more than grit his teeth and take it. Even his assumptions about courting one with the Greystone name were true. When word got out—and it would, no matter how discreet they tried to be—she would face scorn.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment, “for your counsel. I shall take it to heart.”

Alphinaud’s expression tightened in with sympathy. “I am deeply sorry. …You make her happy. She always smiled when she learned we were coming here. She talks more with you. You know, I don’t think I ever heard her _laugh_ until we met you.” He pursed his lips. “I only hope to see you both spared the pain that will surely come if you continue down this course.” 

Haurchefant nodded but said nothing.

“I will see my own self out.”

He nodded again and did not move until the sound of Alphinaud’s footsteps faded beyond the door. A shuddering breath escaped him, then, and he raised his hands to his face. He felt the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, but he blinked and wiped them away. No, he would not cry; he had to meet with his father and he could not _break down now._ He had to keep his composure. For their sakes.

That did not stop his heart from aching in his chest, nor his stomach from churning with dread.

Halone help him. What was he to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeeaaaaahhhhhh sorry guys....betchya think i was goin There™


	6. Anguish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haurchefant cocks his head, smiling once more. “For what should a man fight but that which he loves?” he murmurs, voice warmer than the sun which shines down on us, and too thick with emotion to be a simple statement. “What, but love, is enough to unleash the fury within us all?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1-4  
> Y'all: (◡‿◡✿)  
> Chapter 5  
> Y'all: (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

Haurchefant stands in my doorway with a hopeful smile on his face.

_“Will you go for a ride with me, my dear?”  
_

I have so much to do. Tataru, Alphinaud, and I have things we need to discuss. I have to finish sorting and packing my things. They’re being delivered to the city tomorrow on a caravan sometime after we depart and hopefully will be at…wherever we’ll be staying by the time we retire for the night. I also need to decide what things I’m not keeping. As painful as it is for me to let go of any of my possessions after the effort it took for them to reach me, and how little of my things even made it this far, I don’t need to be hauling all of this around with me. Organization and prioritization, followed by haggling with local merchants to get a reasonably fair value for them since my retainers, assuming they haven’t been rounded up for questioning, can’t sell heavily used items.

So much to do, I should focus on all of this first, but Haurchefant is here, offering, and soon I will be leaving again while he stays behind. Granted I’ll be much closer than usual, and he could probably pop into see me all the time…but still. Even with our busy schedules, I’ve grown used to being able to see him whenever I like.

I say yes and grab my coat.

He’s already gone through the trouble of preparing both Bobby Corwen and Foleux, and they wait for us outside. He leads me through the north gate, out into Providence Point, where urges Foleux into a run and I follow suit. Bobby keeps up well enough, despite his shorter legs. Haurchefant doesn’t say anything, just checks over his shoulder periodically and smiling when he sees me, and I smile back. What’s the point in pressing him? He’ll talk when he’s ready or when we’re…wherever we’re going. Whichever comes first. I don’t mind.

It occurs to me, perhaps five minutes into our ride, that we are heading in the complete opposite direction of Ishgard. I can’t help but think that it’s on purpose. The Steel Vigil looms ahead of us and I wonder what reason he could possibly have for bringing me to these ruins. There is nothing inside, last I checked, nothing but broken stone, remnants of the past, and perilous cliffsides. He leads us up the path towards the gate and slows Foleux to a brisk trot as we pass through the ruins of the outer walls, which are as eerily silent as they are still.

In my mind I hear the faint echoes of screams and cries from a battle long past.

Instead of heading inside, we veer left along the remnants of a path barely visible through the snow. In the distance, over the crest of the hill before us, loom some strangely shaped spires like—oh, it’s Ishgard.

The further we go, the more the city becomes visible, until we are standing at the top of the hill, surrounded by peculiar pillars made from piled stones, and Ishgard stands before me in all its foreboding glory. It seems just as empty from here as it does from Whitebrim.

It’s strange. I’ve done so much for that place, yet I know so little about it…and it is to be my new home? Or, well, my new…base? I don’t know how I feel about this. I’m not sure if I should be happy that I’m finally going inside the reclusive city-state, relieved that we’ll be safe, sad that I’m leaving Dragonhead behind, or…or… Well, I should be anxious that we’ll be living in a place that’s been the target of draconian rage for a millennium, but that seems hardly of consequence in the face of everything else. 

Midgardsormr’s ominous warning rises in my mind once more. The elder wyrm believes Ishgard is not our salvation, that only death awaits beyond. But what awaits us out here should we stay? What awaits Haurchefant and his people?

I just don’t know. It’s too much.

Haurchefant dismounts his chocobo, pulling me back to the moment. I’ve always thought he was handsome but every time I see him without his armor on, I realize it all over again. He’s wearing a fine coat lined with furs that looks quite warm and makes my own glacial coat seem rather…common by comparison.

I slide out of Bobby’s saddle and look around. Something funny on the stone pillar closest to me catches my eye and I move in for a closer look. Someone has carved a circle into the stone, with a single, squiggled line stretching from one side to the other. It’s nothing special, but familiarity tickles the back of my mind. I’ve seen this before, but where? I trace my fingers over the lines, half expecting to feel a tingle or something like that one time I touched those glowing Nymian runes, but apart from the cold, there is nothing. Not even the Echo has anything insights to offer.

“Stunning, is it not?” Haurchefant asks.

I look at him and he’s looking out over the city. He turns, brow furrowing for a moment, but then he smiles when he sees where I’m standing. “It’s the Mark of Menphina,” he explains before I can ask.

I frown, cocking my head to the side. “The moon goddess? But she’s not—I mean, why? Why not the Mark of Halone or something?”

“You must know very little about the Twelve,” Haurchefant muses without a hint of rudeness or scorn and walks towards me. It’s true, of course, where I come from we have our own deities. I mean, I’m sure if I sat down and compared the two groups I could find similarities, but I was never a pious person to begin with. “Menphina and Halone are linked,” he explains. “Menphinia is the goddess of the moon, and love.”

I raise my eyebrows but say nothing.

“Halone is the goddess of war. They both command the element of ice. …Fitting, considering what has become of Coerthas, wouldn’t you say?” He adds lightly and I genuinely cannot tell if he’s joking. His tone turns thoughtful, “The Fury and the Lover—bound in the heavens, the elements, and our very beings.”

“What?” I blurt out. “Anger and love aren’t—they shouldn’t be _bound_ together!”  
  
Haurchefant cocks his head, smiling once more. “For what should a man fight but that which he loves?” he murmurs, voice warmer than the sun which shines down on us, and too thick with emotion to be a simple statement. “What, but love, is enough to unleash the fury within us all?”

I close my eyes, lowering my head, and try to reason against the abrupt wave of anger rising in me. It’s a good answer, poetic, philosophical, perfect for religion and metaphors and what have you. But he can’t…he can’t just _say_ things like that, in that tone, and then not—

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask more sharply than I’d meant and Haurchefant immediately withdraws, physically and emotionally.

“That the mark happens to be here is pure coincidence,” he says, stepping away from me. “We came because there is aught I must say to you…and I wished to show you this.”

He extends his hand towards the cliffside. I look between the mark and him then nod and follow him away from the pillars.

“This is one of my favorite places in all the Highlands,” Haurchefant explains as we near the edge of the cliff. “From here you can see the whole of Ishgard. There is not another view like this to be found anywhere."

It is breathtaking, and I can tell why he loves it. You can see the entirely of the city, the Steps of Faith which stretch from the citadel to the cliffside, Whitebrim Front, the Stone Vigil, the mountains of the Highlands. The abyss swirls below us and beyond the city, mountains stretch for malms and malms, as far as the eye could see. Wild, open, dangerous, beautiful. All of it.

Yet the beauty is marred by the bleakness of it all. This land is rife with peril, fear, and death. These people, these lands, have never known peace and likely never will, not within their lifetimes. And me? Is this to be my fate now as well?

So much for _the_ _Warrior of Light._

“I often come here to think,” Haurchefant continues after a few moments. “A view like this grants one perspective. So often do we get caught up in our own little worlds, view our own struggles and woes as the only ones which matter. ‘Tis one disadvantage we have as mortals bound to the earth. I, too, find myself on occasion to be plagued by such nearsightedness. And so, I come here to remind myself of…my place, so to speak.” He smiles ruefully. “Even before the dragons were expunged from this place, I found the danger worth the rewards.”

“I’ll bet Corentiaux loved that,” I mutter.

“Quite!” he says cheerfully. “But today you are with me and Corentiaux should have no cause to worry!” He beams at me, but I find I cannot return an onze of his enthusiasm and his expression quickly falls. I look away, mentally kicking myself.

“I brought you here of all places so that I could speak with you on a…difficult matter…yet I seem to have upset you ere I could even begin.”

I shake my head fiercely. “No, no! Thank you. I’m—I’m glad to have seen this, I just…” My words fail me and this time my sigh is one of defeat. “I just don’t want… _this._ ”

“Could you be more specific?” he asks with hint of frustration. I deserve that.

It takes me a moment to force my thoughts, my chaotic, traitorous thoughts, and articulate them into words, and I thank Hydaelyn for the Echo because I’m not sure I could do this if I wasn’t able to speak in my own tongue. “You are my friend and I am yours. No matter what, I never want that to change. But you’ve…. Within hours of meeting me, you invited me to your chambers like I was a common whore.”

“I _never_ thought—!”

“You’ve gone from that to…to…” My face screws up in frustration. “You say that I am dear to you, you hold my hand, and touch me, and you’re kind to me like no one else, and you say all these things to me, but it’s _never…_. Not once have you ever told me how you really think or feel—so I want to hear you say it. What am I to you?”

Haurchefant does not immediately answer and despite how badly I want him to say something, _anything,_ I allow him this moment to choose his words. He’s afraid, I can see it in his eyes despite how he tries to hide it. I’m afraid, too, of what he will say, of what comes after. But some part of me just knows that the longer we wait, the more painful it’ll be, and who knows when we will next have a chance to speak like this?

“I am a fool,” he finally says with a bitter laugh. “Not a day has gone by since we met that I have not thought of you. Wondered where you were, what you were doing, if you were well, if I would see you again…. Every time I received word that you were in the area, it always filled me relief, even if you never passed through our gates, because I knew you were well. Of course, that did not stop me from hoping you would visit.”

He reaches for my hands and holds them in between us. “I once told you that the Highlands are warmer with you in them and it is true. You bring light with you wherever you go, and it leaves its mark on all you touch. I have not known you but some few months, yet you have become my light. I have admired you since the first, and the gods know I am far from the only man in the realm to do so but I…every time I saw you, I allowed myself to hope a little more.” He smiles at me, tender and yet so… _sad_ ….

“And more fool me for it. I do not know if what I feel is love, for I cannot claim to ever have truly loved another in the past, but I know that if given time, it will be. And I want that time with you.” He squeezes my hands, leaning forward now in earnest. “You are my light, my ally, and my dearest friend… Would that I could spend every day with you, here or elsewhere, it matters not.”

It’s good that he stops there because I’m not sure I can handle any more. My heart pounds in my chest and it’s a miracle I can still breathe. Despite the chill, I feel warm, light. Giddy. Stunned. I can’t feel my legs.

I don’t know what to say. What does one even _say_ after something like that?! Words have never been my strong suit, but I have to say _something_. He looks so vulnerable and sincere and sad and I don’t know why but I can’t just leave him like this. _Say_ _something, you idiot! Anything!_

“Oh…”

_Not that!_

Haurchefant exhales and it sounds like a laugh. He takes both my hands in one of his and moves the other to my face, brushing across my cheek.

I don’t know what to say.

So, I lean into his touch instead, nuzzling my cheek into the leather palms of his gloves. He makes a quiet, breathless noise and my eyes flick up to his. He still looks so sad and I hate it.

“I think I could love you, too,” I confess and for a moment, his expression clears and lights up with pure, utter, joy. He exhales, eyes searching mine, and, oh, the way he smiles.

But then eyes slip shut and his lips press together as if he is in pain. “I am a fool,” he repeats.

“No…”

“Oh, I am.” Haurchefant opens his eyes. “I…” he laughs humorlessly. “Forgive me, my dear, but I fear I have said the exact opposite of what I was planning to.”

I jerk in surprise, but I don’t pull away. He lowers his hand from my face anyway, clasping it over my hands instead. “Some moons ago, when the Scions were here scouring the records for information on Saint Shiva, Lady Minfillia and I exchanged a few words, though at the time, I did not truly appreciate their meaning. I thanked her for her willingness to aid us, despite Ishgard having failed Eorzea so utterly, and she told me that it did not matter. The Scions may exist to serve the realm and foster relations with and betwixt nations, but they are not Eorzean. Regardless of what we may or may not have done, there was a primal to be felled and t’was the duty of the Scions to see it done. In truth, I have not thought on her words since then, until last night. T’would seem Master Alphinaud is neither as blind nor ignorant of matters as he appears.”

“What matters?” I ask, dread building within me. I’m gonna kick that boy.

Haurchefant inhales deeply through is mouth and sighs. “You a Scion of the Seventh Dawn…and I am the son of an Ishgardian High House. The only reason your order succeeds in its purpose is because of its neutrality, politically and otherwise. Was that not why you relocated to Revenant’s Toll?”

“Alphinaud is a _child_ ,” I snap. “And has been a Scion for less time than I have. Who is he to say—”

“A child, perhaps, but no less correct. I—I am not capable of being politically neutral as you are, my family, my position, are all unequivocally of Ishgard, and as a Scion, you _must_ remain neutral. You can never be perceived to be allied with one city-state over the others. You must be able to act impartially. He told me that even the members of your order who acted as ambassadors to the city-states must side with your order in the end over everything else. So, too, must you, even if it means turning your back on Ishgard completely. On me.”

“Assuming that ever happens,” I retort. “If we can’t find any of the Archons, we’re finished. At least the Scions as we were. It’s over without them.”

“Perhaps…but still you remain the Warrior of Light. That alone demands you remain free of…political entanglements. Your status as a Scion alone is probably what prevents the city-states from squabbling over you. By the Fury, when I think about what a relationship between us alone would do to _Ishgard_ …” He grimaces, squeezing my hands tightly. “Already you face an icy welcome by all beyond Houses Fortemps and Haillenarte. But were word to get out that _I_ was courting you…”

“Who says word has to get out?” I ask fiercely. “We could be discreet. I don’t—I may be the Warrior of Light and a Scion, but I am still _me_.” Stepping forward, I slip my hands from his and bring them to his cheeks, holding his face firmly between them.   “Shouldn’t _I_ have a say in this? They don’t own me. My heart is mine to give.”  
  
Haurchefant smiles and, oh, he is beautiful. He turns his head enough to kiss my palm and my heart flutters in my chest. “But I cannot accept it, no matter how…no matter how much I want it. Nothing good can come of it, only strife, conflict, and pain. Because no matter what, you will always be the Warrior of Light and I will always be a knight of Ishgard. I cannot be there for you like you deserve, and you should never have to choose between me and your duties.”

I grit my teeth. “And if I said fuck it all? Left the Scions, said bollocks to this Warrior of Light nonsense?”

“But you cannot, we both know you cannot.”

“I could.”

“But you will not.”

I duck my head. He’s right. Gods know I didn’t ask to be who and what I am but…I am, and as much as I want to walk away from everything in this moment, I cannot. There are too many people depending on me and if I turn my back on them, they’re doomed. Garleans, Ascians, Primals…it’s only a matter of who finishes the job first. I can’t let that happen. They’ll come for Haurchefant, too, in the end. The best way to protect him is to protect the realm and the only way I can do that is as a Scion and the Warrior of Light.

I think I’m going to be sick.

He covers my hands with his own and gently pulls them away from his face, leaning towards me. I look up, the breath catching in my throat…and he rests his forehead against mine. For a few seconds, we simply breathe each other in, and I realize just _how_ _much_ I want this.

“You’re the most ridiculous man I’ve ever met,” I whisper and then the words just keep coming. “Honestly, I don’t know anyone who can find joy in as many things as you do, or smile the way you do, especially in this frozen wasteland. You’re the only person in the world who’s always happy to see me…who’s never asked anything of me I wasn’t willing to give. Not genuinely, at least,” I add, thinking of the few times he had invited me to his chambers, and he chuckles. “Even when you’re expecting something from me, I never feel the same pressure as I do from anyone else.” I pull back, opening my eyes, and find that his are already open and watching me. “When Alphinaud decided we were coming here, I was relieved, not because we were going beyond their reach, but ‘cos of you. I knew you’d keep us, me, safe. …I’m happy here. I know I shouldn’t be but I am. ‘Cos you’re here.”

“Would that it were enough,” he murmured. “Forgive me. I should not have poured my heart out to you as I did—”

“No, I—I needed to hear it.”

“It has only made this all the more difficult.”

“But I know now. _I know_.”

“Is it enough?”

My jaw quivers. “No. …I’m gonna ki—kick Alphinaud. Right in the shin.”

Haurchefant laughs with a hint of genuine humor. “We are of one mind then, my dea—Rain.”

“Don’t,” I plead.

His expression tightens and to my horror, he takes a step back. “I must. It will do us no good if I do not.” He looks out across the city beyond the cliff and sighs. “We are each burdened with the weight of lives not our own, you more so than I. We cannot think only of ourselves, not now, nor ever.”

Oh, so that’s why we brought me here, of all places. “Perspective,” I mumble and shake my head. “It’s not fair.”

“If life were fair, sons would not be made to answer for their fathers’ misdeeds,” he says with a weight I do not understand and cannot bring myself to ask about. He’d brought me here to break my heart as gently as possible and somehow, miraculously, I’d managed to make it worse. I won’t add to it.

I can’t. I—

“Haurchefant…”

I hesitate for about a second then decide, _fuck it_ , and hug him. I hug him as tightly as I can, throwing my arms around his middle and squeezing him for all I’m worth. He makes a sound of surprise, or maybe that’s just the air getting squished from him, but then he hugs me back just as tightly. He’s solid and warm and I can actually feel him and there’s no cold metal or mail biting into my skin…

So, this is what it’s like.

“You’re splendid,” I tell him and he laughs again.

“As are you, m—Rain.”

I hear it again, the hesitation, the switch, and it breaks my heart more than anything else he’s said today. I don’t think I can handle hearing it much more. “We should go back,” I whisper. “I must…finish preparing…” I think he nods.  “You’re coming with us, aren’t you? To the city?”

“I will see you safely into my father’s care.”

“And then?”

Haurchefant breathes deep and I nuzzle his chest as he exhales. “Then I must return to where I belong, and you must carry on.”

“Just like that?” I whisper.

I feel him nod once more.

Everything is colder when he finally steps away and leads me by the hand towards our chocobos, who have been milling about by the pillars all this time, the good boys. I need to go ho—back to camp, sit in front of the fire for a while, and process. But I know that once we leave here, this is it. He will never allow himself to be this close to me again, because he knows we can’t be, and he’s a much, much better person than I am. I want to be selfish. I want him. I want—

“Kiss me.” Haurchefant freezes mid-step. I hadn’t meant to say it aloud and I screw up my face in frustration at myself, at our situation. He turns and I duck my head. “Just once.”

Shame burns within me. I’m just making this worse. I expect him to refuse me, to point out why we can’t once more, let go of me, but he does none of that. He squeezes my hand and slides his other hand beneath my chin, tilting my face upwards, and I don’t resist him. Maybe it’s because he wants it as badly as I do, maybe it’s because we’re standing beside the Mark of the Lover. Whatever the reason, he surrenders to my plea, and brushes his lips against mine, feather light, more than I expected but not nearly enough. I feel him draw in a breath and then he kisses me.

It’s gentle, tender, brief. It’s more than I hoped for…and it’s not enough. He starts to pull back, but I push forward, grabbing the back of his head with a little more force than necessary but he does not object, and cradles my face in his hands. His thumb caresses the skin just below my eye, gentle where the kiss is now firm, and I don’t want it to end.

I should not have asked him, I realize as we part. This was a mistake. Because I know now. I know how his lips feel against mine but it’s not enough. I want him to kiss me again, really kiss me, until our lips are swollen, and we can’t breathe and all we know is each other. I want to hold him and be held, to run my fingers through his hair, and kiss every inch of his face, but this is all I get, and I hate it, I hate it, I _hate it_.

Tears well in my eyes and I make no move to stop them, nor he to wipe them away, though I know he sees them, as close as he is. He says nothing more to me, only helps me onto Bobby Corwen’s saddle, hands lingering on my back and arms for longer than they should but even they, too, are gone eventually.

I am not a loud person by nature. Even my crying is quiet, and the tears drip down my cheeks for most of the ride back to camp without me ever making a peep. He glances at me over his shoulder periodically throughout, checking on me as he always does, but he never says anything. His gaze doesn’t even linger on me for longer than it takes to confirm I’m still there. We near the gate. I pull my hat lower and my coat higher on my face and pretend the cold is as miserable as always. If anyone notices my red cheeks, they must think it from the elements. If anyone thinks differently, they don’t say.

“I will deal with him,” Haurchefant says at the stables, the first words he’s spoken to me in nearly half a bell, and takes Bobby Corwen’s reins from me. I do not say anything, merely stare at him from beneath my hood. His expression tightens but he says nothing further.

I beat a hasty retreat back to my room. And, of course, it is just my luck that right as I open my door, Alphinaud’s opens as well. He must’ve known that I’d left with Haurchefant…must’ve known what it would mean. I pause in the doorway and we stare at each other. Sorrow and sympathy are writ across his features and I hate it. I take a breath and my chest shakes, tears coming to my eyes once more.

I turn away from him and step into my room. Alphinaud follows, stopping just outside my door. “Rain, I—”

“Don’t,” I snap. “Just…just don’t.”

Then I shut the door in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
>  
> 
> Here ends Falling Snows, though I may come back and toss a few more one shots in here at some point, don't hold your breath xD Onto Heavensward!

**Author's Note:**

> comments = validation


End file.
